


Sherlolly Archive

by MoniMcCoy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark!Lock, Dragon!Lock, F/M, Frankenstein AU, Just a huuuuge list of crack!fics, Kid!Lock, Omegaverse, Parent!lock, Possessive Sherlock, Pregnant Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes is Khan Noonien Singh, Sorry for the english, Trek!lock, Vamp!lock, Viking!lock, i really try, tons of aus, victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoniMcCoy/pseuds/MoniMcCoy
Summary: My personal collection of Sherlolly oneshots, crack!fics, and ficlets... Tons of AUs and stories for this lovely couple!





	1. The Dragon and the Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Again, sorry for my mistakes in grammar and vocabulary :) Hope you enjoy :D  
> Update: I'm editing because I'm cringing so hard right now, ugh...

A young elf was running through the forest with eyes full of tears. She was sick and tired of all the teasing from her fellow elves.

They mocked her because despite she was an elf, she was not like the others. She was not tall, and slender, her eyes were not bluish and she didn't have blond hair. Instead she had a small frame, auburn hair and chestnut eyes. The only trait that she had from the elves were her pointed ears.

Moreover, her handling of the bow and arrows left much to be desired. It was clear she wasn’t a warrior. Her true passion laid in ancient books and scrolls, especially those related to medicine. She dreamt of becoming a good healer in the future, she wanted to show the world that her knowledge could be more important than her physical skills. But that didn’t stop the other elves from looking down on her.

The tears were blurring her sight, she didn’t notice that she had arrived to a clear, far away from the forest and her home. And neither did she realize that there was a giant reddish lump in the center. It was only when she crashed against it, that she noticed it being there, and that its texture was scaly, like a snake, or a…

An annoyed grunt make her stumble backwards. The dragon slowly raised his massive head and looked at her with piercing golden eyes, that had flecks of blue and green.

“How dare you interrupt my rest, puny elf maiden?" He spoke with an imposing booming voice, although he sounded a little bit tired.

The young elf didn’t answer. She was too scared to even react.

"May I know who you pathethic little thing are?" He spoke again. And again she didn’t respond.

The dragon’s patience was wearing thin. He extended one of his emormous talons to grab her and crush her frail little bones, but the mere movement made him wince with pain and bring the talon to his chest area. Behind the claw the elf got to see a deep gash.

‘That must be the source of its pain.’ The girl thought.

"Do... do you need help?” She asked in a mousy voice.

“Why do you care?!” He roared back, embarrassed that she had seen his moment of weakness, and winced again in pain.

She was taken aback by his sudden outburst but quickly recovered when she realized that he needed her medical knowledge and skills.

“I can help you if you want.” She said with a little more confidence in her voice. He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“But why? I could easly scorch you with one flare.”

“You need treatment.”

The dragon narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. But the pain in his chest was becoming unbearable, so he decided to accept her offer.

“Alright. Show me what you can do.”

The elf face lightened and her smile grew. Surprisingly, her reaction warmed a little the dragon's cold heart. He didn’t know why but seeing her happy made him feel better.

'Must be the blood loss…' He thought.

The girl started searching in her bag for bandages, towels and medical ointments and disinfectants. When she managed to take out all the equipment she needed, the elf proceeded to wet a towel with disinfectant. The second she raised her hand to put the towel in the wound, she stopped.

"This is going to hurt you, so please don’t attack me.” She pleaded.

The dragon nodded and moved his foreleg to give her total access to his wound. When the wet towel made contact whith his scaly skin He let out a low growl but nothing more. Despite the inmense pain he felt, he endured it bravely until she covered the wound with bandages.

“It’s over. This should make the trick, I’m Molly by the way.” She calmly told him.

The dragon titled his head to the side. What a strange elf maiden. Others would have fled or even attacked him, but she did not. She was a rare and unique specimen. Like a jewel.

“I’m Sherlock.” His deep voice rumbled, and Molly smiled again.

Yes, definitely she was different. She was like a treasure, a big, shiny and valuable treasure. And he wanted that treasure to be his.

Molly would never be able to escape from him, as he always kept close to his belongings.


	2. Parent!lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parent!lock Sherlolly (sigh) one of my multiple favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is being re-edited, because I am cringing a lot.

Molly looked proudly to the little baby that was curled up in the crib. Her daughter's birth paired with meeting Sherlock for the first time was one of the most wonderful things that had ever happened to her.

Helena Adara Holmes was perfect. Her skin was as white as porcelain and her eyes and hair reminded her a lot of her father. She had the exact same blue-green eyes and the Sherlock's unruly mop of dark curls. Perhaps she even had his brilliant mind as well. But that cute little button nose was clearly Molly’s.

A pair of strong slim arms embraced her from behind and perfect Cupid’s bow lips kissed a sensitive spot of her neck that make her moan softly. She could feel him smirk with his head buried in her neck.

“You are home already?”

“Yeah, at first the case seemed an eight but soon it turned into a four. The husband trained the dog to poison Mrs.Combrick. It was a piece of cake.”

Molly smirked at her husband's arrogance.

“Is she still asleep?” He asked softly.

“She has been sleeping all day.”

“She’s so perfect.”

“I wonder who she takes after?”

“Well, It’s obvious that she's a mixture of both of us. Well, maybe she takes a little more after me.”

Molly let out a soft laugh and playfully hit his arm while Sherlock continued looking lovingly to the beatiful creature that was in front of them: their daughter.


	3. Victorian Vamp!lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victorian!lock and Vamp!lock, the best combination :)

Her smell was so lovely. Delicious. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the taste of her sweet sweet blood. However, as much as he wanted he couldn’t give in to his desires. He wanted her, yes, but he wanted her alive.

Hiding in the dark corners of the filthy and wet London he enjoyed the sight of her dressed in a dark blue long-sleeved victorian dress. She was like a present, and he couldn’t wait to unwrap her.

A carriage passed by her side and she jumped and squeaked in fright. This confirmed his suspicions that she knew that she was being followed by a worse menace than himself. He wondered if she had noticed him following as well.

Out of nowhere, a shadow fell over her, and threatened to end her life. Rage and bloodlust ran through his veins. How dared he… To try to kill what obviously belonged to him. Fool. It was time to feed.

Without thinking twice, he launched himself to the stranger’s neck, ignoring completely the frightened screams and cries emanating from the woman. He tore his throat easily with his sharp fangs, then eagerly drank all the blood that came out from the wound.

A sob drew his attention from the dead man to the small and meek woman in front of him. A pang of guilt crossed his chest when he saw her puffy red eyes and her trembling lips. She was now afraid of him, and he felt like an animal, so primitive and feral.

When did the logical part of his mind die and let the primal part take control? He didn’t know. He only knew that seeing her in danger enraged him. His non-beating heart would not survive if she got hurt.

Slowly he approched her, cleaning the blood of his mouth with the back of his hand. She backed away in horror.

“P-please… don’t…” And she fainted.

He caught her in his arms before her head hit the ground. He took a good look at her face under the moon’s light. She was beautiful, not a sensual beauty like Irene Adler had been before he had killed her, but the kind of beauty that motivated a man to become a better person just to see her smile.

He picked her up bridal style and carried her to his home, determined to protect her for the rest of her life, and someday turn her into his Vampire Queen.

He carried her to 221B, home of Sherlock Holmes: World’s only Consulting Detective and Vampire King.


	4. A Study in Dragons part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t help but feeling a little bit Smaug!lock tonight. Sorry for my grammar and vocabulary, unfortunately English is not my first language.

Sherlock stirred uncomfortably in bed and tightened his hold on Molly.

The fever hadn’t gone down yet, instead it had gone higher. The heat in his body was now becoming quite unbearable, and it was getting worse by the second. He couldn’t sleep, not with that fever and that annoying pain that was slowly increasing.

He snapped his eyes open when a new wave of pain wrecked his body. When he looked down at his hands, he discovered that these weren’t the symptoms of a common flu, but something much worse.

The skin of his hand was slowly reddening and scaling, almost like a lizard or a snake. His polished nails were growing rapidly and were becoming sharper, like claws.

Gasping he shook Molly’s shoulder. She waked up begrudgingly and looked at him with tired eyes.

“Sherlock, what the-"  She closed her mouth when she saw the quickly extension of the red scaly skin from his hand to the rest of his body. Then she looked at him in awe, demanding an explanation.

"Molly… We need to go to Barts… call John… I may need his medical expertise as well…” He said in a cool, but a little trembling, tone of voice.

She nodded so fast she almost smashed her cervicals and went to the kitchen to grab the phone and call their doctor friend. An annoyed and tired John answered the call.

“Sherlock, do you happen to know what fucking time is it? Because I do, It’s fucking 3 in the morning!”

“John, it’s Molly. We need you to go to Barts. Something it’s happening to Sherlock.” She was amazed that her voice didn’t tremble when she felt like a nervous wreck.

Hearing the distressed woman’s voice made the doctor soften his tone.

“Molly? What’s happening? Is Sherlock alright?”

“I don’t know, John. It’s hard to tell. When we get to Barts I’ll explain you everything.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

Molly hung the phone and tossed it away while she walked to their room to get dressed.

With one of her favorite cardigans and her most comforatbly baggy pants, she stepped into the bathroom, seeing his already dressed husband observe his reflection in the mirror.

He was different now. His skin was scaly and completely red, and his nails had converted into claws. His eyes were not the same blue-green that she loved, but a yellowish color with a slitted pupil. Also, there were little protuberances emerging from his head, similar to horns.

“I’m a monster.” He mumbled.

Molly couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for her husband. Quickly, she crossed the room and gave him a hug and a quick peck on the lips.

“No, you’re not. And I won’t let you think otherwise. Come on, let’s get a taxi”

* * *

 

John was already waiting at the entrance of the morgue. He frowned when he saw Sherlock  wearing sunglasses, a bomber hat and with his scarf covering his mouth,.

“Why all that hiding?” He asked, and gasped in surprise when Sherlock stripped off the glasses and hat.

“Quickly, Molly. Unlock the door. I don’t think that we have much time.”

“Time for what?” John asked, growing even more confused.

“For finding the cure! Do you really think that I would even think to look like this forever?” Sherlock snapped.

Molly hastily pulled out her ID card from her purse and opened the door. Sherlock immediately stormed inside, followed by John, and began searching frantically in the shelves for something that could stop his changing.

“We need to take a blood sample first to see what has changed in your dna and if we can return it back to normal.” Molly said, putting her lab coat on and going towards the cupboard where she kept the needles.

“Let me help you, Molly.” John approached her and to help her get the needles and petri dishes ready for the testing.

A sudden cry of agony and pain, that looked a bit like a roar, made them drop the medical equipement to the floor and turn to Sherlock, that was on the other side of the laboratory, doubling over himself in pain. He was growing.

**TBC**


	5. A Study in Dragons Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of this fic, Enjoy! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... going back to my 2013 fics, it's like going through my embarrassing high school social media.

Feeling alarmed, they started to approach him. When they made it half way, he roared again.

“STAY BACK!! DON’T YOU DARE TO APPROACH ME!!”

Both were taken aback by the fierceness in his voice and the animalistic tone. The two of them watched with worry and fear how Sherlock’s red scaly body grew to the point of tearing his clothes apart. Soon, the remainings of his Belstaff coat, jacket, purple shirt, pants, socks and shoes fell to the ground turned into rags.

He was now bare naked in front of them and still growing. On his back two new protuberances were beginning to form. they soon developed into wings, while in the lowest part of his back started to emerge what could be desribed as a long tail.

His size was rapidly increasing, so John and Molly had to back away a couple steps towards the door because Sherlock’s gigantic reptilian body was starting to fill the entire room, leaving little space.

“How much is he going to grow?” Asked John worringly.

“I don’t know, but if he doesn’t stop he’ll burst out of the room!”

As if he had read her mind, the transformation stopped. And the man in front of them was no longer of the human species. Before them there was a mighty enormous dragon, who was breathing heavily.

“Sherlock?” Molly asked with caution, she wasn't sure how much of her husband was left in that creature.

The dragon emmited a low growl in their direction, and stiffened. It was then that Molly noticed that she had been grabbing John tightly the entire time and released him. John laughed.

“Feeling a bit possessive don’t you?”

“Shut up, John." Responded an annoyed Sherlock. His voice was now impossibly grave and deep and rumbled through the entire room.

"Care to explain why are you like this?” Molly asked, her voice shaking a little. With his heightened senses, Sherlock could practically smell her caution and fear and he didn’t like it, they made his heart ache. So he relaxed his stance and looked at her with pleading eyes. After a second of hesitation, she finally smiled and walked towards him to pet his muzzle. He purred happily.

John cleared his throat from his position near the door.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt this beautiful and romantic scene, but we need answers, Sherlock. And and do not play dumb with us, Sherlock. You know perfectly well what I mean.”

The giant reptilian sighed and a cloud of smoke was expelled from his nose and mouth, making Molly cough.

“Mycroft said he needed my help to dismantle an illegal scientifical project that could become a potential threat against national security. I went alone, and disguised myself as a laboratory assistant. Everything was going so well until one of the scientists tried to use me as a lab rat and succeed. They tied me to a chair and injected me with a serum, that I suppose is the principal cause of this change. After that, they threw me to the streets when they didn't see any changes, so I went to see Mycroft to report about my mission.”

“But none of you guessed that the serum would take a few days to have effect, am I wrong?” John said, finishing Sherlock's story.

“Unfortunately, you’re right.” Sherlock said, turning his head to one side avoiding making eye contact with any of them.

“We could go to Mycroft, maybe he could find the cure.” Molly suggested, hopeful.

Sherlock roared again, this time stronger, startling both of them and making them flinch at his sudden change in demeanor.

“MYCROFT! I KNEW HE WAS KEEPING OUT SOMETHING FROM ME! THAT’S WHY HE WAS ACTING SO STRANGE DURING OUR LAST MEETING! HE KNEW IT! AND DIDN’T TELL ME!!”

“What?” Both of them asked in confusion, how could Mycroft keep that vital piece of information from him?.

“He was acting strange last time I saw him, as if he was being cautious with me. He knew this was going to happen and didn’t tell me! THAT BLOODY GIT!!”

Now he was fuming and moving his tail frantically, destroying everything that crossed its path. Molly felt nervous and sad seeing her husband so distressed and furious, but she also worried someone might hear all the ruckus he was causing and came down to investigate. Slowly, she started to walk towards him.

“Molly! Be careful! I don’t think he can control himself!” John shouted, trying to cover behind one of the tables. Molly nodded and warily extended her arm, trying to get him to calm down by petting him again.

A massive talon caught her by the waist and lifted her in the air. She gasped and John held his breath when she found herself looking into a pair of angry yellowish eyes with slitted pupils. She couldn’t help but start to hyperventilate and panic, if he didn't got a hold of himself and tightened his grip... Sherlock’s dragon eyes grew wide with worry, all anger and frustration forgotten.

“Molly… don’t… breathe, you have to breathe. I would never harm you… please Molly…” He said, imploring and nuzzling her torso with his muzzle like an overgrown cat would have done. After a couple of minutes, she seemed to calm down for a bit. She gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry… you just scared me a little… I... I didn’t want to upset you.”

“It’s okay, I apologise if I have scared you. I really didn't want to behave like that, love”

“What are we going to do?” John said, getting out from his hiding spot.

Sherlock closed his eyes in deep thought.

“Although it pains me to be the one to suggest it, we need Mycroft.”

“But where will we hide you? you’re too big to not be noticed.” Molly asked, now noticing that even getting him out of the morgue would be impossible, since he was too big to fit through the doors.

“I’ll be fine here. Stanford won’t come until thursday, so you’ll be the only pathologist available in all Barts, because the others will expend their useless time at the canteen or on vacation. I'll make sure Mycroft arranges that.”

“Then come on, let’s hurry." John was already reaching for the door, but stopped when a thought ocurred to him. " Wait, won’t Mycroft be annoyed if he finds us banging on his door at three in the morning?”

“Would you be annoyed if that happened to you, John?”Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

Just before they went out to Mycroft’s, Molly turned around and gave him a soft kiss in the muzzle. He purred with contentment.

“I promise you that everything it’s going to be alright.”

“If I’m stuck like this forever, will you still love me and be at my side?” He sounded so insecure and vulnerable it made her heart melt.

She gave him her sweetest smile.

“Always.”


	6. Omegaverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omegaverse: done. I don’t know if it’s a bit short but still I hope you enjoy :p  
> Update: I wouldn't be able to write smut even if it hit me on my face.

Molly Hooper hated her life. She completely loathed being an Omega. She detested the way she turned into a horny mess everytime she went into heat. Always rubbing her legs together, fucking herself and begging to be knotted by some Alpha. It was primal, savage and lacked any kind of romanticism.

She didn’t want to become part of that vicious circle of mating, knotting and bonding. She only wanted to give her body and heart to a man (It didn't matter if he was Alpha, Beta, or another Omega) who respected her, valued her for who she was and loved her.

That’s why Molly Hooper was still was a virgin at the ripe age of thirty-one.

There was nothing wrong with her. She was smart, pretty, loyal, kind, and competent. Her only imperfection was her stupid Omega biology. She had always been ashamed of that stupid need to be fucked, bonded and marked. It was a feeling that was proving to be very difficult to erase.

Every day she took special care about covering her sweet and aditive Omega scent. To achieve this, she used a wide range of products that included: Beta scented soaps, medication to reduce the burning of her heats and the effect of her pheromones; and especial bleach to ensure that none of her natural Omega scent was attached to her clothing.

Life was difficult, but if she wanted to be taken seriously she had to do this.

Even at the cost of a fruitful relationship and even children. “Work is worthier than sex” She said to herself every morning, ignoring the tiny voice in her head that screamed that it really wasn't.

Sighing, she opened the doors to the morgue finding Sherlock Holmes standing in his usual spot, looking through his microscope. This only made her feel even worse.

Sherlock Holmes was six foot three inches of lean and gorgeous Alpha. He was probably the only Alpha that she had lusted after. She had spent several nights fantasizing about him in full Alpha mode throwing her roughly into his bed, marking her, telling her that she was his and only his and fucking her into oblivion. Nevertheless, he had clearly showed her over and over again that he was not interested in knotting, bonding or being romantically involved at all. Always using harsh and cruel words towards her or anyone who felt brave enough to talk to him about it.

More than once she had thought about telling him about her true Omega nature. She wondered how he would react if he discovered that she was an Omega. Would he be angry for having fooled him for years? Would he be interested?

‘Maybe he already knows.’ Molly thought. No, it was impossible. If he already knew, he would have told everyone just to show off how smart and brilliant he was.

'The Case of the Omega Pathologist. That’s how John would have titled it.’ She thought to herself while being elbows deep in Mr. Leonard’s chest cavity.

* * *

 

Sherlock was busy analyzing some of the cultures that John had threatened to put on his food if he didn’t leave them at Barts, when a familiar scent filled the room. It was a weird artificial scent, but everytime he smelled it, it caught his attention and prevented him from focusing on anything else.

She was in the room with him now. How could he not recognize her? Her soft footsteps, her quiet breathing and her strange smell. He wondered why she smelled like that if she was a Beta. Betas do not usually smell so artificial, then why did she smell so fake?

Again, he wondered if it would physically hurt Molly if he took her in the morgue right now. He hated that something that was so simple could be so difficult.

He was a man and she was a woman, why could’t they shag like the Alphas and Omegas did? He liked her and she liked him, yet they could not be together.

People always talked him about knotting and bonding with a good Omega. It was infuriating. How could they not see that the only woman who he had ever wanted to bond with was right behind him? They were all blind, they saw but did not observe.

Suddenly a powerful scent that made his pulse accelerate, his pupils dilate, and his cock harden captured his nostrils .It was a powerful Omega-in-heat scent, and it was coming from… Molly.

* * *

 

Molly suddenly tensed when she felt the wave of heat that ran through her body and when wetness pooled in her panties. She panicked.

'Oh God, what the hell is going on?’ She was a liar. She perfectly knew what was happening but was too emabarrassed to admit it.

The only day she had forgotten to take her pills, after taking them regularly without skipping them once;  had to be the day when she would have the most powerful heat cycle of her life in front of _Sherlock Bloody Holmes_.

With an increasing feeling of panic taking over her, she looked at him, praying that he hadn’t smelled her.

She was wrong. He could smell everything and now was looking at her through narrowed eyes with pupils impossibly dilated. He was breathing heavily.

'Oh fuck….’ She tought. “I-I have to go, I h-have something to take care for…” Molly said in a rush to get to the doors, completely oblivious that Sherlock had also got up and was running behind her.

She didn’t get too far because as soon as she stepped out of the morgue to the hallway an enormous hand grabbed her wrist and she was pinned to the wall.

There she was, trapped between a wall and Sherlock’s tall and slender body. She could feel the bulge in his trousers pressed against her stomach, while he sniffed her neck. Instinctively,  she moved her head to give him more access. Fuck, she wanted that more than anything in the world.

'Bloody Omega hormones.’ She thought. He began sucking her neck repeatedly and started rubbing his body against her, covering her in his scent.

“Don't use that awful soap ever again. It can be quite frustrating and annoying.” Sherlock growled, then nipped at her neck.

Molly let out a gasp, and his hands went to her bum. He crouched slightly and picked her up to carry her over his shoulder. “Finally.” He smirked tightening his hold on her. Molly couldn’t help but giggle as he walked again towards the morgue and locked the doors behind them.


	7. Slender (Parent!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was a huge fan of the game back then... enjoy some Parent!lock! Helena, Andrew and Hamish are my original characters, the rest belong to Moffat, Gatiss and Conan Doyle.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Sherlock jolted up from his seat and ran to the room where the scream had come. The door was locked and he panicked. With all his might he broke down the door and stared breathing heavily to his eleven-year-old daughter Helena covering her eyes with her small hands and his twelve-year-old godson Hamish crouched on the floor trembling.

“What the he- what is going on here?” He demanded while trying to catch his breath.

“D-daddy! don’t look or it’ll take you!” Helena cried, with her eyes still covered.

“Who’ll take me?” Sherlock asked arching an eyebrow.

Hamish pointed with a trembling finger towards the computer screen. Sherlock moved his head to the right, finding a distorsioned image of a faceless man ‘staring’ directly at him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. How could people get scared of such stupidity? Kids these days... They got easily scared of their own little shadows.

“It’s just a picture, children. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He said calmly.

“B-but dad, he appeared out of nowhere and killed us!”

“That’s not real, Helena. To die in this game means that you have lost. Furthermore you should not play this kind of games. You are too young for this kind of excitements.”

“Andrew has played and he told us that if we didn’t play we would be chickens!” Hamish protested, crossing his arms.

“Andrew’s a liar. He’s the type of child that always wants to be better tan the others and prove himself as the class’ leader. But you should know this by now, right Helena?”

Helena ducked her head down, dark curls falling onto her pouting face.

“Yes, dad. I knew from the beginning that he was a self-centered prick." She bit her lip when she saw her father frowing down at her for her choice of words. "But I didn’t want the whole class making fun of us for being cowards!”

Sherlock sighed. It was nearly imposible to remain angry with his little Bee. Not when she gave him the same doe eyes as her mother.

“Helena, Hamish. Being scared sometimes is not a bad thing. Everybody gets scared.”

“Even you?”

“No. I do not.” Sherlock said quickly. But the eyes that his daughter and godson gave him made him want to correct his mistake.

“Alright… yes. Even I get scared. But not very often.” He said grumpily making them smile.

“But what if Slenderman decides to come after us?” Helena asked, her face turning pale.

Sherlock crouched to her level and grabbed her chin.

“Then, I’m afraid that John and I will have to beat him up.”


	8. Asylum (Dark!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was very dark and I love it so much.

Sometimes he thinks he can still see her, hear her, smell her, talk to her, touch her. But she’s not there and she never be by his side again.

Because he’s a monster. He is incapable of feeling, incapable of containing his rage and his deductions, incapable of looking after the only thing that had any value in his miserable excuse of a life.

And now he had lost her.

If he had arrived sooner, she would be in Baker Street now, cuddling with him in the sofa while he is thinking about his new case, instead of being in that appaling hole.

If he had arrived sooner, he wouldn’t be inside that asylum now, he wouldn’t have gutted her murderer and the four innocent civilians that casually were on the same street.

He had acted without thinking, blinded by rage and sorrow, and now he was suffering the consequences of his acts. But for Molly, he would do it again a million times.

He didn’t care now what John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft thought about him. He didn’t care about the gossips Donovan and Anderson divulged about him. He didn’t care what the press wrote on the newspapers. They all could go to hell. He only needed her, and now she was dead.

A nurse entered the room with his medication on a tray in her hands. Inside one of the scrubs' pockets she had a scalpel. 'Just in case I get too aggressive.' He thought .

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes.

She was short in height. Like her.

She had long auburn hair. Like her.

She had big chestnut eyes. Like her.

But she was NOT her. She would never act so arrogantly and so unkind to him. And she didn’t have her cute pert nose.

How dared she? To try to be like her and think he wouldn’t notice? That was unforgivable.

He launched himself towards her and broke her balance. She stumbled backwards and fell on her butt. The nurse opened her mouth to scream but he quickly covered it with his big hand.

Looking at her straight in the eye he looked for the scapel on her pocket. When he found it, he slowly moved it towards her throat, pressing it slightly causing a small trail of blood to fall down her throat.

“Don’t you dare to think for a moment that you are her. You. Are. Not. You are not Molly.” He said in a dangerous, dark voice that didn’t belong to the consulting detective anymore. It belonged to a madman, like Moriarty. But he wasn’t like him. Moriarty never felt anything when he killed. But he did feel.

He felt love.

Love for the most wonderful, beautiful and brilliant woman that had ever existed: Dr. Molly Holmes nee Hooper.

He slitted her throat without second thought, truly thinking that every single kill would mean one more proof of his love for the doctor. The doctor that no longer was there.


	9. Trek!lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit Khanolly with the Sherlock is Khan trope, I love it so much. I think I wrote this before I got to watch the movie.

Doctor Molly Hooper awoke with a start. It was cold, very cold. She barely could move her fingers. But, how did she get inside that thing in the first place? The only thing that she could remember was going to her flat, after a lot of unsuccesful hours of looking for Sherlock with John and Greg, and then darkness.

It was clear that someone had drugged her and had put her inside that cryogenic pod. But, why?, and most important, why her? of all people why would she,a simple pathologist in Barts, be put inside that frozen cell? It didn't make any sense.

Molly blinked one, two, three times trying to adapt her eyes to the brightness of the room. Looking around she could deduce that she was in an infirmary, and judging by the look on the faces of the medical staff, she wasn’t supposed to be awake. Again, why was she there?

“W-where am I? Why was I inside that capsule?” She asked, feeling nervous and scared.

“Don’t you rembember why you were in that capsule?” A man in a blue shirt asked. She shook her head. The doctor looked at the nurse's face and grimaced.

“You are aboard of the U.S.S. Enterprise from the United Federation of Planets. Right now you’re in the infirmary of the ship, I’m Dr. Leonard McCoy, chief of the medical staff, and this is nurse Ida Tana.”

Molly paled slightly by this statement.

“United Federation of Planets? What year is it?” She asked, fearing for the worst.

Dr. McCoy seemed a little surprised by her question, but he answered it anyway.

“It’s 2259. Are you feeling well miss?”

No. Molly was not feeling well. How many decades, _centuries_ , had she been sleeping? It couldn’t be, If now was 2259 and she was put in cryogenic state in 2013, that only meant… that all her friends and family had died long ago. No more cousin Clara, no more uncle Peter, no more Mike, no more Mary, no more Greg, no more John. And no more Sherlock. They were all dead.

Molly felt dizzy. She wanted to throw up, she wanted to sleep, she wanted to cry… but instead she went stiff.

“Nurse Tana, please asist her and make a blood test and a full check-up. Come on!, move!” McCoy demanded.

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later, after several blood tests and checking all her vital functions. Molly sat on a hospital bed with a warm blanket drapped over her shoulders.

Everybody seemed to be very nervous and afraid, but not of her. What the hell was happening inside that ship? Why was everyone so restless?

All of a sudden, the doors of the infirmary opened and the most gorgeous man that she had ever seen came in. Well, truth be told, he was the second most gorgeous man she had ever seen. First was Sherlock. He looked at her deeply and gave her a flirtatious smirk that soon vanished from his face.

“Kirk, we don’t have time for this. We don’t even know what type of relationship she had with him.” Dr. McCoy warned him, noting the brief gesture.

The captain spoke with a serious tone of voice, never breaking eye contact with her.

“What do we know about her?”

The doctor cleared his throat.

“Her name is Molly Hooper, she is a doctor. She was a pathologist in st Barts in London in the 21th century. She studied in Cambridge, and she had a cat named Toby. And the most important piece of information, she is not one of them.”

“Then, what is the status of her relationship with Khan?” Kirk asked, clearly confused.

“Who?” Molly asked equally confused.

“Khan Noonien Singh? John Harrison? He’s the most dangerous criminal in the world, Ford God’s sake!"Kirk shouted exasperated, thigs were already confusing enough, they didn't need to get even weirder.

"Sorry, I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Look, is this guy.” Dr. McCoy told her while he handed her a tablet with a picture of a man. As soon as she took a good look at him, Molly felt like fainting.

That couldn’t be, It simply couldn’t be him. Sherlock Holmes was dead, and he would never harm any innocent. He was a high-functioning sociopath not a psychopath like Anderson had onced called him.

“W-what did he do?” She asked, trembling.

“He has killed more tan forty people in several terrorist attacks, one of the victims was my mentor.” Kirk said, feeling deflated.

"I am really sorry." She said, truly feeling sorrow for his loss. He seemed to acknowledge the truth behind her words and nodded, giving her a soft smile.

“Do you recognize him?” McCoy asked.

Molly swallowed hard.

“He looks like an old friend. But I don’t think it could be him. He died many decades ago, along with the rest of my friends and family.”

“But why were you inside that cryogenic pod?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

A man with pointed ears and strange eyebrows, entered the room in a hurry. He also seemed surprised to see her awake.

“Sir, there’s a new call from the Vengeance. We need you on the bridge.”

“I’m coming, Mr. Spock.”

“Captain, who is she?” Spock asked, frowning.

“That beauty over there is Dr. Molly Hooper. She was inside one of the capsules.”

“But sir, isn’t she a-” The vulcan started.

“No.” McCoy interrupted.

Spcok appeared to be even more surprised by this.

“S-sorry but, can I go with you to the bridge? I would like to know where I am.” asked Molly with a mousy voice. Kirk smirked.

“Of course, miss. Please, let me guide you through my ship.” He said offering his hand. Molly blushed a little and accepted his offer.

McCoy and Spock shook their heads in disbelief.

“Not even being attacked by a psychopath, can make him stop from flirting.”

* * *

 

On her way to the bridge Molly observed in awe how people from different species and planets worked together using the most advanced pieces of  technology. It was incredible, and more than once she wondered if she could get to work on a place like this.

During her brief stay at the bridge, Molly met several people. First was Uhura, a comunications officer and Spock’s lover, who had been very kind and sympathetic to her. Then the officials Scotty, Sulu and Chekov who had also been very nice to her, despite her being on one of the cryotubes of that monster.

And Kirk was so sweet and handsome and he seemed really interested on her, unlike Sherlock. If she proved her innocence and captured that criminal, maybe she could start over and be happy in this century, it wasn’t that bad.

Suddenly Uhura stood up, alarmed.

“Sir, We have another  call from the Vengeance, should we answer?”

“Okay, let’s take the call.”

The front window turned into a screen that showed the image of a man so similar to Sherlock that made Molly want to cry.

“Well, 'officers'. Have you reconsidered my offer?” Khan spoke.

A lonely tear rolled down Molly’s cheek. Even the voice was the same.

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.” Kirk said loud and clear.

“Really?, Then I don’t think that-”

Khan stopped talking and looked at the small woman holding on Kirk’s arm like her life depended on it, then narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists tightly.

“I have a new offer to you.” He said, a cold expression masking his features.

“What do you want?” Spock demanded.

“I. Want. Her."Khan said, pointing to Molly.

"What?” All of them asked.

“You have heard me. I want her on my ship on thirty minutes. And if my demands are not accomplished, I will take her by force and kill everyone remaining aboard the Enterprise.” And the call ended. Leaving all of them in silence.

Molly sighed in defeat and spoke.

“I’ll do it”

Everyone turned to look at Molly, who was still holding Kirk’s arm and looking sadly to the floor.

“Dr. Hooper, you don’t have to do this. There must be another way.”

“No. There’s not. Look you all are good people and I won’t forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me. Please, take me to his ship.”

* * *

 

The Vengeance was scary, and way bigger than the Enterpise. Also the workers weren’t so nice, the few of them that were left. Molly found herself being roughly scorted by two soldiers to a strange chamber, that she noticed that was the quarters of the captain.

For fifteen minutes, she sat quietly on the bed, bracing herself in order to stop trembling.

The door of the quarters opened and Khan Noonien Singh, terrorist and former warlord, entered. He stood still in the middle of the room for several seconds, watching her warily. When he recovered from the first impression he walked slowly towards her. He extended a trembling arm, wanting to touch her, and caressed her face. He then hugged her with all his might as if he feared she was going to fade if he loosened his hold on her; but at the same time he tried not to crush her with his superior strength.

Molly couldn’t be more confused than she was feeling at that moment, but still returned the hug somewhat awkwardly.

“Molly… It’s really you…” Khan said. Then it hit her.

“Sherlock?” She said with her eyes full of tears.

“I've been waiting so long for this moment…”

Molly went rigid. If he was Sherlock, then….

“Why did you kill those people? I thought you weren’t a psychopath.” She said stepping back from him.

Sherlock didn’t bother to hide the flinch that showed her how much her words had pained him. He stepped fowards trying to hold her hand, but she stepped back again.

“I thought you were all dead. They told me that they had killed you. And I was so angry and hurt…” He said begging. Molly still not believed him, and it hurted him more tan being called ‘freak’ or 'machine’ by almost everybody he knew.

“Please Molly…” He cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him in the eyes.

He sounded so desperate and pleading that Molly found impossible to believe that he could be faking it. She put her small hands on his bigger ones.

“Why?”

“They left me no other option. I had to do that. It hurted me so much to lose you… I've been completely alone since Marcus awoke me, and he made me believe that everyone I trusted and loved was dea-”

Molly stopped him by giving him a soft peck on the lips. He happily returned the kiss, while she moved her hands to his now shorter haircut.

“You have to stop doing this, please, I beg you. Let me explain them your motives. We can solve this and recover our friends.”

Sherlock seemed to consider her reasoning and then spoke in a dangerous tone.

“But I’m sitll going to kill Kirk.”

Molly seemed quite shocked by his declaration.

“But why? He hasn’t done anything bad, has he?”

Sherlock smirked and put his chin on Molly’s shoulder, his hold tightening slightly.

“He should learn to not touch what’s not his.”


	10. Viking!lock

Molly couldn’t believe her father’s words. How could her own father do this to her? She was his only child for crying out loud!

“Father please, don’t force me into this. Please,I beg you.”

Her father looked at her with sadness in his eyes and caressed her cheek softly with one of his wrinkled hands.

“My beautiful little girl. I wish things weren’t this way. But you have heard him, love. He wants the princess to be his woman, otherwise, he and his army will ravage the kingdom.”

Molly was sobbing now. She didn’t want to marry that brute bastard, but she understood that it was for the well-being of her people. There was no other way to save them.

“Father, I’ll do as you ask. Now lead me to the throne room.”

They walked slowly, knowing that as soon as the chief of the Viking clan laid his cold and merciless eyes on her, they would never be able to be together again.

On the throne room stood the chief of the Holmes clan stood proudly, looking bored. By his side was the man that had presented himself as John, his advisor and best friend. The chief was tall and lean but quite muscular, with pale skin, dark curly hair and incredibly sharp cheekbones. He was so beautiful that if he wasn’t a savage that destroyed everything he touched, Molly would have been more tan happy to marry him.

On the other hand, his companion despite being a little more bulkier in built, was a good ten inches smaller tan him. And in his eyes, there was not the same fierceness and coldness, instead there was a calm and serene expresion that made him look more diplomatic.

Both warriors, although it was the coldest season of the year, were dressed in sleevless tunics and simple cloaks, showig them that they couldn’t care less about the weather. For her, that only made them appear even more bestial.

“You are late.” The chief spoke. His deep voice rumbled through the entire room.

“My apologies, my lord. I had to prepare my daughter.” The King said, pointing towards Molly.

The chief gave her a curious glare and narrowed his eyes. Then walked slowly towards her and stopped when he was a couple of inches in front of her, towering over her small and scared frame. He extended an enormous hand and caressed her face delicately, causing her to shiver under his touch. His hands were so cold and so rough…

Grunting approvingly, he hauled her over his shoulder and carried her toward the entrance of the castle, were the horses were waiting. His companion followed them in silence, not daring to disturb his superior.

Molly knew in that moment that she would never see her kingdom again.

* * *

 

They have been riding for nearly four hours, with Molly in the chief’s horse with her back pressed against his broad chest. She could feel the muscles on his chest rise and fall with every exhalation and inhalation, and his hot breath on her neck.

Occasionally she discovered him smelling her hair, capturing her scent like an animal. In that frecuent occassions she would go stiff, causing him to go stiff too.

When the horses couldn’t take one more step, they finally set up a campsite to spend the night. Despite not showing any aggressive behavior, if she didn't count that rough manhandling when they first met, towards her, Molly didn’t dare to move a muscle or to speak, fearing the consequences. She  didn’t even eat. Well, she didn’t until the chief put a deer leg that was way too big for her appetite in front of her.

“Eat.” That was not a suggestion, that was an order that have to be followed, if not…

She slowly nibbled on the leg, realizing how hungry she was. The chief relaxed his stance and gave her a soft smile.

“It’s now my job to feed you.” He said calmly.

Dinner time ended and  left Molly feeling really tired. She hadn’t slept in all day and she needed to rest. The chief looked at her and pointed towards his tent.

“Sleep there.”

She quickly obeyed, and as soon as she entered the tent, all the tension and pressure she had been holding back got free and she broke into sobs. She didn’t know if they could hear her, but she didn’t care. She had the right to feel as miserable as she was.

When the sobs and tears finally ended and she calmed herself down, she took a look at the tent. It didn't look like the tents she had seen in books or had heard in the tales the elders told during celebrations. There weren’t swords, axes and other weapons. Instead there was a wide collection of reading material which included anatomy books and ancient medicine scrolls.

Curiosity got the best of her and took one of the scrolls. She was in the middle of an interesting essay about medical herbs when the flap of the tent was drawn aside.

“Do you like them?”

She squeaked and the scroll fell from her hands. That caused the chief to give a booming laugh.

“Y-yes my lord.” She nodded shyly.

“Sherlock.”

“S-sorry?”

“You shall call me Sherlock,  _kona_. Now, it's been a long day, let’s go to sleep”

Molly nodded and hesitantly followed him to the pile of furs that was positioned at the center of the room. She stiffened when she felt his arm curling protectively around her waist and pulling her to him, but soon relaxed and fell asleep listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart.

* * *

 

Sherlock looked at the small princess in his arms. She was so fragile and so delicate that even a strong enough air stream could easily break her. He would kill anyone who dared to lay a finger on what belonged to him.

It had nearly broken his cold heart hearing her sobs. He didn’t want her to be sad, ever. He swore to Odin that he would win her love at any cost. No matter how long it took him.

_ “Minn Kona, Minn Vif…"   _ He muttered happily before drifting to sleep.


	11. Angry (Parent!lock Trek!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm completely in love with this AU

“Daddy?”

Khan looked from the book he was reading to this 6 year old daughter, Helena.

“Yes?” He asked softly.

“Can I ask you a question?” She asked clutching her stuffed-bee towards her chest.

“Why, of course you can, come here” He said patting his thigh. She sat on his lap and looked down shyly.

“Well?” He asked.

She looked at her feet again innocently and Khan cleared his throat, feeling a bit impatient.

“Why are you always angry?”

Khan seemed taken aback by her brutal honesty. He couldn’t puzzle why his own daughter thought he was always angry.

“Why do you say that? I’m not always angry.”

“It’s… because you always have that strange face all the time.” She said scrunching her face in a feeble attempt to make a frown that almost resulted comical on her soft features. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her face

“Have Mommy and I done something wrong?”

“Of course not, my little princess. I would never be angry with you or your mother.” Khan said, aghast.

“And what about Uncles John and Greg? And Auntie Mary and Hamish? or nana Hudson? Have they done something bad to you?”

Giving her a small smile he caressed her soft dark curls, very similiar to the ones he used to have.

“Well, maybe your Uncles John and Greg are quite stupid sometimes, but I’m not angry at them, and I will never be.”

“Then why?” She asked.

Khan was not sure if he should tell her the truth about his rage and frustration. She was only a child, a very brilliant one of course, but far too innocent and compassionate to know all the truth. So he decided to tell her half of the story.

“Helena, my little girl, you must know that there are very bad people who won’t think twice when it comes to hurting you and your mother in order to hurt me, and that’s what worries me.” He said trying to control the murderous rage that plowed through him when he remembered the multiple foes that could harm his family.

'But you have to stay calm, for your daughter' _._  He reminded himself

“It’s getting late, Helena. It’s time for you to go to sleep.” He said carrying her towards her bedroom. When he placed her in her bed, she was already sleeping peacefully. He looked lovingly at her.

Since he was injected with the serum, he was not supposed to have any kind of feelings. If he was a machine before, now he had to be worse. He was a monster, a cold-blooded killer without mercy and compassion. But, seeing the small girl lying peacefully on the bed, he couldn’t help but feel joy and pride.

A pair of small, thin arms embraced his waist, and a soft head was pressed to his back.

“Molly.” He murmured lovingly.

“I see that your deductive skills are still brilliant, Sherlock.” She chuckled.

Khan smiled, he loved when she called him for his real name. In this world, Sherlock Holmes, World’s only Consulting Detective was dead. Instead it was Khan Noonien Singh, ex-terrorist (He promised his family he wouldn’t do that again) and superhuman. Hearing his name made him remember about the old times when he and John ran through London’s streets catching all the criminals. Now, the roles had been reversed, as they were the criminals and the ones who were chased.

Furious, he thought about Marcus and the ones who made him a criminal. He started trembling with rage.

Turning slowly, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her fiercely until they had to step back to recover their breaths, at least Molly did.

“Whoah. Keep it down, Tiger. I’m not going anywhere.” She said between ragged breaths.

“I wouldn’t let you go” Sherlock said, tightening his hold on her.

She smiled and kissed him again, even if Molly couldn’t fully understand why he had committed all those murders in cold blood, she knew he had done them in order to save them.

She knew that he couldn’t live withouth any of them. Helena, John, Mary, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and herself were all his life, and he would do anything for them, even kill. Many people had said over the years he was a cold blooded bastard, without feelings. But only a man with the biggest of the hearts could comit murder to protect his family. She hoped she would at least accept it someday.

Now, as she held her husband in her arms, she pondered about how much her life had changed in the span of a few years (or centuries). Things would never be as they were before, but if they were all together they will be fine.


	12. Date (Parent!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Helena is growing up too fast for Sherlock XD Thinking in Elijah Wood as the boyfriend. Enjoy! :)  
> Update: going through the tags I wonder why I felt the compelling urge to tag absolutely EVERYTHING, even if it had no relation to the ship.

Sherlock Holmes disliked many things. And his daughter’s new boyfriend was one of them.

It wasn’t the teen’s fault. Elijah was sweet, smart, attractive, generous and polite. It was the fact that he was trying to steal his Little Bee from him what bothered him.

Sherlock had always been a possessive man.  _His_  cases,  _his_  lab equipment, _his_  pathologist turned wife and  _his_  daughter.

 _His_. That meant that she belonged to him, not to Elijah. Seeing his baby daughter growing up so fast was breaking his heart.

Today, they had planned going to the cinema to see some ridicoulous science fiction movie that was very popular among teenagers. Helena had promised him repeatedly that they wouldn’t kiss, shag, or embrace during the entire lenght of their date.

There was a rule that he had established and adamantly insisted upon since Helena had started to show the signs of attraction towards the opposite gender that was just:  _NO_  romantic gestures or public (and private) displays of affection until she was old enough to buy herself a house. (It was a tad ridicoulous, but well, he was an overprotective father)

At six o'clock Elijah appeared at the door looking shier than ever. It may had melted Molly and Helena’s hearts, but definetely not Sherlock’s. He already knew what this guy was up to, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

He gripped the arms of his armchair so hard that his knuckles started turning white. That would have remained undetected by anyone, but not by his family.

“Mommy, please. Don’t let Daddy ruin my date I beg you. I really like Elijah.” Helena wishpered, feeling anxious.

Her mother nodded sympathetically and walked towards her fuming husband, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Sherlock…” She began, using a warning tone.

The only reply she got was a feral grunt. Then he stormed towards their bedroom. Helena looked afflicted to the door, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Is he angry with me?”

“Of course not, honey. He would never hate you, it’s just he doesn’t like changes. And you’re growing up so fast… now  you go with Elijah and enjoy the movie.”

“Thanks mom.” Helena said, taking Elijah’s hand, who smiled shyly at her, and going through the front door.

Molly sighed and looked at the now empty living room. She had just said goodbye to her daughter, now she had to take care of her other child. Tip-toeing she walked to their bedroom’s door and knocked slightly.

“Sherlock?”

No answer.

“Sherlock please, let me in.”

Again, no answer.

Tired of his tantrums, she opened the door and found Sherlock laying on their bed clutching a ‘teddy-bee’ with all his might

“He is planning to kiss her, you know.” He told her, his voice heavy with sorrow.

Molly sighed again and laid with him on the bed, resting her head on his chest and laying a hand on his now slightly graying curls.

“One day she will get married and have children, and she will live her own life. We can’t stop her, that’s not how it works, love.”

“But I won’t be there to protect her! What if this Elijah guy cheats on her or hurts her?.” Sherlock complained while pouting.

“Sherlock, don’t question our daughter’s brilliant deduction skills. She will know in less tan 30 seconds if Elijah or the man she chooses to marry is a bad person.”

Sherlock pouted again, only to be kissed passionately by his wife. Resting on her elbows, she looked down at him.

“And if someone hurts her, she can always count on the wrath of her family.”


	13. Animal (Trek!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update: This was my passion back then, guys.

What else could he have done? After all, he was an animal.

What he had not expected was her being present when he crushed Admiral Marcus’ skull.

She had been afraid of him before, like those times when he used his riding corp on the corpses if he was feeling frustated or when he threw a tantrum if he didn’t get what he wanted. But this time was different.

She had just seen how he killed a man only using his bare hands, she had seen the deranged expression on his face when he broke Dr. Marcus leg and when he hit Kirk andthat other weirdo. There was nothing he could do to hide it now, Molly had seen the real him.

He had been so furious with them, he had been so hurt that he had not been able to get a grip on his emotions, so he gave in to sentiment.

Now she was crouched against the wall covering herself with her hands in an useless attempt of protecting her small and fragile body. That only fueled his rage.

He hit the wall with all his might, his fists denting the cold hard metal. She squealed in fright.

Kneeling in front of her, he caught her teary face with his hands. His firm, yet delicate, grip made Molly look him straight in the eye.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Molly Hooper.” He said kissing her reddened cheek softly.

She was still scared, but looked more calm. He was relieved, because there was only one person that could made him feel completely human, and that was her. She was sweet, soft and caring, unlike him. And that’s why he wanted her.

He knew that he had hurt her since the first day they met and that she deserved more. But he was a selfish man, and he wanted her for himself.

She was not like The Woman and she would never be. Ms. Adler was only The Woman but Molly…

Molly was The Woman who counted, The only Woman he had trusted, and The Woman he loved. And he would never let her go.

He had caused all that ruckus not only for John and the others, but for her. He would kill for her (he has already done it). The way Marcus was holding her as his hostage made his blood boil and his heart thunder furiously. He wouldn’t think twice about breaking any finger who dared to be laid on her.

She was his, and nobody took what was his.

He tried to compensate the damage he had caused, in hopes to gain a chance to start his path towards redemption. He found himself willing to negotiate with the Enterprise. The deal was simple: They gave him the capsules (just ones that held human beings inside, he only needed his friends not that stupid army of super soldiers) and he would give them their captain and officers with the promise of letting them escape safe and sound, but with their weapons deactivated.

Yes, he had done horrible things, things that only a monster would do. However, when he got John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade back he would try his best to change and become a better man. He would prove Molly that he can be the man she so desperately needs and wants.


	14. Demon!lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon!lock as I said. An interesting new AU but I kinda prefer Smaug!lock, Vamp!lock or Trek!lock; Even so I still like it. Enjoy! :D  
> Update: Now I'm more into Demon!lock than ever.

It all started like any other day in her life. Well, in her case, night.

As always, Dr. Molly Hooper, head pathologist of St. Barts was working on the corpse of one unfortunate soul that had been ‘accidentaly’ murdered the day before. And by working she meant being elbows deep in their chest.

Lately, there were having a lot of violent deaths in London. That was not very unusual, since London was a big city.  What made it suspicious was that not only that all the corpses were from criminals, but that Sherlock Holmes, repeat,  _Sherlock Bloody Holmes_ , the same man that jumped like a little boy on Christmas Day everytime there was a triple homicide, was not pleased with all those bizarre deaths. He  _even_  had refused to take the case.

 _'So weird’_  Molly thought to herself. Sherlock had been acting odd since the killings had began. But the most unsettling thing was that he was quite unnerving when he was with her at the morgue. Okay, she might became a nervous wreck everytime he was around because of her silly crush, but this time was different. It felt like every sense and instinct she could ever have was screaming at her that she should get the fuck away from him. He looked kinda nervous when he was with her.

 _'S_ herlock Holmes? Mr. 'I’m-smarter-than-you-so-shut-the-fuck-up' nervous? Because of her? Yeah, right. _’_

All of a sudden, the labs door bursted opened, making her jump and drop her scalpel in the process and a very distressed Sherlock entered. Something was wrong, very wrong.

* * *

 

“Molly.” His voice was firm, yet she could hear the tremors in his voice.

“Yes, Sherlock?” She said, smiling to hide the uneasiness.

Sherlock seemed to be having an inner fight with himself, he appeared to be so stressed and worried that made Molly wonder if he was high.

Then, seemingly taking a stance on his inner conflict, he became rigid and adopted his usual arrogant persona. He looked very serious and intimidating.

“I’ve got something to imform you about.”

“What is it?” She asked. Sherlock took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself.

“I’m not the hero everyone seems to believe I am. I once said that I was on neither the side of the angels or the demons. I lied.”

“Sorry?” Molly was starting to worry. He chuckled.

“Just sit and enjoy the view.”

He started trembling and Molly wondered again if he had been taking drugs. If so, he looked like he was about to collapse.

She stared with ever-growing fear when his nails sharpened, his fangs elongated and two horns started emerging from his forehead. The wore thing were his eyes, which blackened to the point she couldn't see anything else. She barely could contain a shocked gasp when she found that pools of blackness looking at her.

Where were those blue-green eyes she loved so much? Now his eyes were all pupil and the only thing that showed was cruelty and malice.

“Molly, listen carefully because I will not repeat myself. This is the real me. I’m a demon and the one who caught, judged and excuted those criminals. And you, Molly Hooper, are destined to be _mine_. My mate, my maiden, my wife,  _mine_.”

And she screamed in fright and fled from the morgue.

* * *

Molly had not left her flat since that dreadful night. She had called Mike saying that she was going to have a month off due to personal issues, taking advantage of the multiples days-off she had wasted working in the morgue either to assist Sherlock or to cover for some colleage that needed the time off. Mike had cheerfully agreed, saying that it was about time she went on a vacation.

Warily she looked through the front window of her flat. He was still there, waiting and patrolling like he had been doing all these days. He wouldn’t go away. He wanted her, and he would get what he wanted at any cost. Even if he drove her insane in the process.

“Please, go away.” She muttered. Sherlock looked up at her from where he was standing and smirked, shaking his head negatively. She stepped away from the window.

Feeling scared and stressed, she started sobbing desesperately on the sofa, with Toby nuzzling his nose on her tigh in an attempt to comfort his master.

“Toby, sweetie. Not now please.” She begged.

The cat, knowing when he wasn’t wanted gave her the stink eye and went down to the mopet in order to clean his genitals.

Molly sighed and went to her bedroom, hoping that a good twelve-hour sleep would clean her thoughts. She needed to escape him, but, on the other hand she needed to know why he had chosen her as his mate if Ms. Adler was more suited for him.

 _''W_ hy do you have to make everything so difficult?' _’_ She thought before drifting off to a less than peaceful sleep.

* * *

 

It was four in the morning when she heard the crash. Tip-toeing she grabbed and old baseball bat that had belonged to her brother when he was in his teens and made her way quietly to the living room.

There was no one. It couldn’t had been Toby, he was fast asleep and snoring loudly on her bed. Also, it wasn’t a burlgar, there were no windows opened and her lock was not forced. Then, what the hell was going on?

“Teletransportation, one of the multiples habilities of a high range demon.” A voice said behind her.

Molly squeaked and lifted up the bat to repeteadely hit the intruder. But he was faster and stopped the bat  just by grabbing it with his right hand.

“Sherlock?” Molly asked, eyes widening when she recognised the intruder.

He smirked and tightened his hold on the bat, breaking it in two.

“Obviously.”

She started to step back. But Sherlock again predicted her movements and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her towards his toned torso.

“How long have you been breaking into my flat?” She demanded, trying to show him that she was not as afraid as she was feeling. He chuckled.

“I’ve been for a while. I like it”

“What do you want from me?”

His expression darkened and his brow furrowed. His eyes became again the black pools, and his fangs, horns and claws emerged.

“Why don’t you want to be my mate?” He asked, and if Molly wouldn’t have known him better she would said he sounded hurt.

“Why do you want me to be your mate?”

He cupped her chin, forcing her warm brown eyes to meet his cold dark ones.

“You are so pure, so fragile, and so brilliant that I’ve always had this need of marking you as mine and protecting you because I don’t want anyone hurting you. I need you to be my eternal companion because I... I seem to feel what humans call love.” The words were beautiful but when they are said with that stoic mask of a face, the scene can be quite frightening. Molly simply looked at him weirdly.

Sherlock understood that he had to be more persuasive if he wanted her to be his. Lowering his head to her neck, he started nuzzling and kissing her. He couldn’t help the grunt of satisfaction that he emmited when he heard her moan because he had touched a sensitive spot on her neck..

 "Sherlock… please… oooohhh… don’t…“

Sherlock nipped her neck and growled.

"I bet you that at the end of the night you will be mine.” He grunted and pinned her to the wall.

Molly was afraid, very afraid, but instinctively wrapped her legs around him. That only turned him on even more, but stopped when he sensed her discomfort and fear.

“Molly, don't fear me. Never. I’m the same Sherlock you know, nothing has changed, you just know more about me. I know these feelings can be scary, believe me, but please don’t resist them.” His tone, demanding yet pleading, cleared all her doubts and fears.

“Sherlock, I trust you with my life. What do you need?”

He groaned, understanding the meaning of the quesion.

“You.”


	15. Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aww Parent!lock, so cute.

John looked at his friend for the thirtineeth time that day. He seemed distracted, nervous and very un-Sherlock. Something was bothering his friend and he was determined to find it out.

He started walking towards him, who was currently shouting at poor Anderson about something related to the type of knife the murderer had used on the unlucky victim. He had never seen Sherlock so enraged, he usually kept his rage locked under a cool mask of stoicism and disdain, so it must be something of utterly importance what was disturbing him.

“AND I TOLD YOU THAT IT WAS A SHIV, YOU IDIOTIC USELESS MORON!!! NOW STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOUR LOW IQ DISTURBS MY TRAIN OF THOUGHTS AND EVERYONE ELSE’S!!”

Even Donovan seemed taken aback by his outburst. Anderson was as white as a sheet, and looked like he was going to faint. John couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the man, he may be a jerk, but come on, not even him deserved to be at the receiving end of Sherlock's wrath.

“Are you okay mate?” John asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He noticed he was shaking with barely concealed rage

“How else could I be? I’m perfectly fine!” He snapped.

John sighed. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Alright, what is it this time? some idiot has wounded your enormous ego?”

“It’s Molly.”

John seemed surprised.

“Molly? Has something happened?”

“That’s the problem, John. I don’t know! And I don’t like not knowing things, it makes me feel so…  _ordinary_.” He spat the last word like it was venom. John resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Have you asked her?”

He stopped dead on his tracks.

“No.”

“Then, what are you waiting for?”

He huffed.

“John, don’t be stupid. It doesn’t suit you. I’m perfectly capable of solving this myself.”

“Sooo... what’s the matter with Molly?”

“She’s been acting odd lately, she has been avoiding me and she has been crying a lot. I have no clue what I could have done wrong to upset her so badly!”

Sherlock seemed exasperated, and John felt pity for him.

“Tell me, do you have any idea of what had happened before she started acting oddly?”

He seemed to consider his question.

“She was feeling sick, probably she came down with the flu. She couldn’t stop throwing up every morning and everytime she ate. And she felt very tired, somedays she couldn’t even make it to work.”

“Did she have any fever? mucus? whooping cough?” John asked, already in doctor mode.

“Nope.”

John appeared toughtful, before a huge grin sprawled across his face.

“What is it John? Spit it out already!” Sherlock demanded, with an increasing feeling of anxiety.

He chuckled and patted him on the back.

“Congratulations, buddy.”

It took him only a moment to figure the hidden meaning of his words. And it took him less than a second to start running towards Barts, forgetting to catch a cab.

* * *

Molly was in the middle of a postmortem when two huge hands grabbed her by the waist and scooped her in the air, turning her small body around.

She was so unsettled that she nearly missed the look of excitement on Sherlock’s face. Either he had a new interesting case or an experiment has gone well.

“Are we going to be parents?” He asked.

She looked surprised, How could he…? Oh, right. She was married to  _Sherlock Holmes_. He knew everything.

“Y-yeah, You... you are not angry?”

He let out a booming laugh.

“How could I be?? Someone with my brilliant mind and your looks is growing inside you!, Isn’t it marvelous?”

She smiled, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

“Yes, It is.”


	16. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really hated that infamous ASiB scene, I know it was part of his development and growth and that his relationship with Molly improved, but it was really hard for me to watch. That's why there are certain parts of the show that I can't watch, and most of them are Molly's. She is so sweet and a great and interesting character but Sherlock is such a huge dick to her in the first season. It also doesn't help that sometimes they write her like she was a laughing stock for the show (ahem, Tom nearly identical to Sherlock, ahem). Thank good Louise is there with her incredible acting skills.   
> It gets better at the end of season 2, parts of season 3, TAB and season 4. They really showed her like the strong woman she is.

"And we can put a big Christmas tree, and garlands and a punchbowl with Mrs. Hudson’s eggnog…“

John Watson loved Mary, he really did. But he felt like his head was going to burst. Now he understood Sherlock when he had planned that dreadful Christmas party a couple of years ago. Speaking of him…

"Mary, honey. Are you sure that Sherlock will let us throw a Christmas party tonight in his flat?”

Mary Watson, nee Morstan, looked offended.

“Of course? Why not? It’s also your flat, you  _still_  pay half of the rent!”

“Yeah, but you know how he is. He would prefer a serial killer rather than a Christmas party.”

“Well, he will have to shut up and endure it. It’s our first Christmas together since he returned from the dead, and I don’t want  _ANYTHING_  to spoil it. Have I made myself clear?”

John nodded slowly, sometimes his wife could be quite frightening.

“Y-yes sweetie, let’s go find Molly.”

* * *

 

Dr. Molly Hooper stood in the middle of the lab reviewing an old autopsy report when an overly happy Mary, followed by a cautious John, entered through the front doors.

“Molly! We have wonderful news to tell you, It’s about 221B!.” Mary beamed

“Oh, really?” Molly frowned. She wasn’t sure if she would like the news they were going to tell her.

“We are going to have a wonderful Christmas party tonight and you are invited!” Mary clapped with excitement.

Molly froze.

'No.No.No.No.NO. Not.That. Again' _._ She thought. She didn’t know she would survive another humiliation like last Christmas with Sherlock. She wanted to say no, but instead her mouth replied.

“Thanks, I’ll be there.” She said with a happiness that she didn’t feel at all. In her head she was thinking of different ways to evade that martyrdom.

“Great! Come on, John we have to finish the preparations.”

“Right, Mary. Bye Molly!”

“Yeah, goodbye.” Molly said, absently.

She couldn’t live through that again. No. She made a vow to herself. Sherlock Holmes would never make her cry again.

* * *

“YOU TWO HAVE DONE WHAT?”

“You have heard me loud and clear, Sherlock. Tonight, we are going to have a party here, in 221B, and you are going to attend.” Mary said very seriously bordering on intimidating.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the ex-assassin's antics.

“Of course I’m going to attend. This is in fact, _my_ flat. Not yours.”

“Everyone is going to attend, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson,  _Molly_ …” John began.

Sherlock’s interest picked at the mention of the meek pathologist’s name. Since his fall, his relationship with Molly had improved so much that he wasn’t sure how he felt about her. The only thing he knew was that when he was with her, everything seemed right, and when they were away from each other a sentiment of longing crept on his chest.

 _Sentiment. Always so complicated._ He thought dismissively.

 But in truth he ached for seeing his pathologist tonight.

* * *

It was ten o'clock, two hours after the party had begun and everyone had started to worry.

Molly still hadn’t appeared.

Sherlock was pacing impatiently through the living room, looking to the front door each two minutes and half. Every second that passed made his concern grow.

“I’ll call her, maybe she has forgotten.” Mary said, looking for her phone.

“How can she forget if she was invited this morning?” Sherlock snapped. Mary ignored him and dialed Molly’s number.

“Put it on speaker.” Sherlock ordered, sitting on his favorite chair. Mary rolled her eyes, but obeyed nonetheless.

“ _Hello?”_  Molly's voice filled the room.

“Molly! Where are you? We are all waiting for you!” Mary spoke, worried.

Molly sighed through the phone line.

“ _Mary, I don’t think I'll be able to make it to the party_.”

Sherlock tensed.

“Why not?”

“ _Because… because I don’t want to.”_

Sherlock gripped the arms of the armchair tightly.

'Why?'

“What?”

They heard a quiet sob through the phone line. It wasn’t very loud and It wasn’t long, but It was a sob. Coming from Molly. Sherlock’s heart clenched.

“ _Has anyone ever told you about  what happened the last time we had a Christmas party in 221B? Well, let me shed some light. I had never been so humilliatedd. But it really wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. He was angry beacuse he didn’t want any party in his flat and he ended up venting out all his pent up frustration over me. And that wasn't even the worse part. The worst thing of all  that happened is that everything he said was true. My breasts and mouth are too small for anyone to notice, and I looked pathetic on that dress. I looked like a child who was trying to dress up with her mother's clothes. That night I think my crush died, and my hopes and dreams too. He ruined them. Not to mention what happened to my self esteem. Goodnight Mary, and forgive me for not telling you sooner that I wouldn’t come. Merry Christmas._ ” She hung up.

Everyone went silent after that. But if they had listened closely, they would have heard Sherlock’s non-existent heart breaking into a million of pieces.

Heartbroken and enraged, he grabbed the Belstaff coat and scarf and stormed trough the door towards the street. With his quick steps it took him less than 15 minutes to arrive to Molly’s flat.

* * *

Molly was in the middle of a boring Christmas movie when furious knocks at her front door made her bolt from her seat and drop Toby who hissed at her and ran towards her bedroom.

The banging at her door continued and she hurriedly went to the door. She didn’t mind being only with a pair of her best lingerie panties and a strapless black shirt (It was a good way for her to remember that despite what Sherlock Holmes had said, she indeed had a nice figure), the cold was not a problem, she had a nice heating system settled up.

The door opened and her jaw dropped in shock when she saw the dark figure of Sherlock Holmes looking down at her, looking equally shocked.

 _''_ Great. I  completely forgot today was the Sherlockian traditional day of '"mbarrass Molly and crush all her hopes’". She thought sarcastically.

Sherlock seemed to be in awe, he couldn’t think properly. Since when did Molly have such a nice figure? He supposed that she had always been like that but the baggy clothes that she wore in the morgue did nothing to highlight her body. He could feel himself starting to harden a bit.

'Why do you always betray me?' He asked his body.

“What do you want, Sherlock?” Molly asked, crossing her arms over chest. She was half naked but she couldn’t give a fuck. All she wanted was that evening to be over.

“Did I hurt you so badly that you don't love me anymore?” He asked sounding slightly hurt.

 "What?“ She asked before realizing what had happened. "You heard me...”

“Everyone heard you. Was I really that horrible to you?”

Molly stayed silent. But it didn’t take a genius to know the answer. Sherlock leaned fowards and pressed a soft gentle kiss on her lips.

“What was that for?” Molly asked, shyly.

 "I’m sorry Molly. I know I’m not the best when it comes to feelings but I want to try. If you let me.“ He knew he sounded hopeful, he really wanted to make things right for her, for she mattered like no one had mattered before.

"You want to try? with me?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Of course. Who else would I like to try with? Mrs Hudson? Lestrade? or maybe John?”

“You don’t have to be a dick, you know.” She said crossing her arms again.

He smirked.

“I know, but I’m lucky to have you now to remind me, am I?”

Molly stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

“Of course you are, you incredible git.”


	17. Warm Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rafaro asked for a zombie theme in the comments and I remembered I had this. This one was published separately on ff.net but I guess I can include it in here as well.

_Outskirts of London, 2016_

He didn't know how long he had been there, nor did he know for how much long he would have to be there. Time, at least when you're an undead monster chained to a wall, it's something that you hardly notice passing. Though there wasn't anything interesting outside his cell, given that London and the rest of the world were destroyed. The only things that circulated its streets now were zombies and mutant animals.

He prefectly remembered the day when all of that happened. It was the same day when his beloved Molly announced him he was going to be a dad. He had never felt more frightened and insecure of himself, but overall he felt a great joy that easily surpassed both emotions. However, his day soon got ruined when a terrorist group caused the escape of the Thanatos Virus during a biological terrorist attack to Harrods mall.

Panic spread. Hundreds of people ran for their lifes and most of them found their end when the army put on quarantine all Harrods. However, that didn't stop the virus of finding another ways to escape, pidgeons that had sneaked into the building, the sewers...

It soon extended through all the city of London, and then Europe, until every continent and every location in earth was contaminated. Nobody escaped from its destruction. Except, maybe, a few lucky survivors that now lived on small safe zones, isolated from the outside by tall and sturdy walls that zombies were too stupid to climb.

Not even him, Sherlock Holmes, World's only Consulting Detective, was able to escape that plague. On a desperate try to reunite with Molly and their unborn baby -who were confined on hospital along many other survivors- he was bitten by whom he once was his best friend and comrade, John Watson, and left for dead.

What nobody never knew was that no matter how hard th virus tried to control Sherlock's mind, he wouldn't give it up so easily. He designed some kind of counter-measure basing it on a couple formulas for a vaccine that had tried to cure the virus but had been discarded due ther unusefulness, until finally the pathogen gave up the battle and died. But he had still turned into one of them, more or less. Sherlock now belonged to the select zombie group, and eventhough he retained his memories and his human conscience, he wouldn't be accepted by human society ever again. He was a pariah. Now the only things he could do to spend his days were eating meat and roam like a lost soul through the apocalyptic streets of London, wondering about the fate of his wife and their unborn baby.

* * *

It wasn't until five or six months later that he found a group of survivors in search of medicines and food for their shelter population. Some of their faces were vaguely familiar to him, maybe from Scotland Yard or St. Barts . None of them had ever been his friends neither he had bothered to talk to them when he was alive, however, that didn't stop him from coming to their rescue when they were attacked by a pack of mutant dogs.

At the end, he ended up chained and inside a van because one of the 'scientists' of the group had found interesting his weird action of saving them and he considered it worthy of studying.

_It's not like he's going to cure all the zombies or win the the Nobel prize studying me._

During the two hours that was the trip he had to endure the judging and disgusted looks, the sound of shotgun refills and the typical comments such as 'Wasn't he that genius detective? He looks horrible.'.

Moreover, the roads were not paved, and every few seconds the wheels crashed against a small rock and the van lost a bit of its balance. Being the zombie he was, he didn't mind the hits, but it was irritating to have to be moving from side to side like a child's toy without being able to keep balance.

They finally managed to arrive at the shelter. It was like a huge town/base camp surrounded by walls and where you could find several facilities and services for the survivors. Though it wasn't the same than when they didn't have to live locked from the outside, they managed to get by. An aura of fear and survival surrounded the camp.

The second they traspassed the doors, a lot of curious survivors and nurses approached the van. Obviously, none of them knew he was inside, but he was sure that as soon as they saw him, they would panic and a revolt would start. He couldn't help but make a grimace which could have passed as a smile if he had been alive.

However, even if they looked and behaved like proper idiots, his captors managed to hide him and move him without being discovered, to what had once been some kind of scientifical facilities but now there were only ruins remaining.

On that building aside from him and his captors, lived another twelve persons more, among them there were three families, formed by eleven of the resdents; the other one was a very pregnant woman who lived alone on the top floor and who had a constant medical attention. Sherlock, even if he really did not have now a heart, felt pity, thinking that his wife and child would be now amond the numerous piles of corpses in London.

Without unchaining him and stop aiming at him with their guns and handmade spears, they led him towards an old elevator and took him down towards what looked to be like the prison cells. There, they pushed him towards a wall and put a chained collar around his neck, to prevent him from leaving, just like they would do to a dog.

It was really humiliating, the old Sherlock would have complained and reduced to tears to his captors with his harsh and sharp deductions; but the current Sherlock, the zombie who had lost so much in life, and death, just looked towards the wall with his grey empty eyes without making a sound, not even a small growl. If John could see him now, he would be proud of him, seeing that his attempts at civilizing him had finally been successful.

* * *

… …. …

Days passed and everyday was the same routine. When the sun rose in the sky, after a sleepless night, one of the guards entered on his cell with a M1911 pointing him and a piece of raw meat as big as a cow. They threw it at him and Sherlock nodded, feeling a bit grateful for the meal, and started eating until he was full and left the leftovers for lunch or dinner.

Then, after endless hours of looking toward the bars on his cells, the cell's door opened again and entered one of the doctors accompained by two guards. They made him do intelligence tests, to see if his mind was as sharp as it once had been; they also checked to see if his reflexes and mobility were in good state. Sometimes they tried to make him speak a word. They never managed to. Then, he or she noted the results and left, mumblig about how docile, fascinating and smart was that zombie.

Sherlock had always been a man who despised routines and ordinary people customs, but he came to appreciate that schedule, because the other option was to be left to slowly decompose in the streets while he anxiously thought about his friends and family. At least here, he had some contact with humanity.

But someday that routine changed.

The doctor who was attending him-whose name he had never bothered to learn because there are things that would never change- was interrupted while he tried to make him speak. A very distressed looking woman entered the room, but without stepping into his cell  (that would have been the last straw for him about the stupidity of his caretakers).

"Doctor! The pregnant woman has gone into labor!" She screamed. Sherlock couldn't help but flinch at the woman's shrill voice, didn't she notice that the doctor was just a few meters from her? That there wasn't any need to cry like she was being persecuted by a hoard of mutant dogs? Obviously not. He wondered how this woman had managed to survive that long with that squeak of a voice.

That pregnant woman must have been very important, because as soon as the doctor heard the news, his eyes got wide as dinner plates and ran away from the room towards the elevator, leaving him alone and chained again while he tried to bring a baby to this world filled with death and terror.

After a couple of hours, Sherlock unconciously started wondering how was the baby and what their gender would be, which colour would their eyes and hair be, and who they would resemble more, their mother or their father. On another occasion he would never have cared. But as he saw the same faces everyday, he already knew almost everything about their lifes. On moments like this, he often fantasized with the appearence that his baby would have had if they had been born. The baby would have his curls, obvioulsy it wasn't a genetical trait that could be avoided so easily, it probably would also have his nose and the soft and pinkish lips of its mother. And big brown eyes that would shine with something that he couldn't decipt. But now, he would never know that.

* * *

The days returned to his normal and boring schedule, but now he could hear some of the guards cooing about how adorable was the new addition to the 'family'. At first, he didn't pay them any attention, it was some stupid blabbering after all. However, one of the conversations really caught his attention.

He was in one of his medical ckeckups, during one of those dreadful intelligence tests. And one of the guards, a woman, judging by her tone of voice, started talking to her partner about the newborn baby.

"You should have seen her." She muttered without lowering the gun. "She's utterly beautiful! The mother says that she takes after her father, with that long curls and those blue green eyes, but I bet my ass that that cute button nose is Molly's."

Sherlock's empty grey eyes were wide open, and unconciously a growl escaped from his mouth, alerting everyone present. The guards tensed and aimed their guns at his head, just in case he had a psychotic break and went to bite the doctor's arm. However, they were stopped by the voice of said doctor.

"Wait! I think he's trying to say something, don't shoot!" The doctor seemed excited with the progress he had made, as he was starting to lose hope with him. The guards didn't seem any excited though, probably because they were more realistic and believed that there wasn't any way for a dumb zombie to speak. Frankly, he didn't blame them.

Sherlock tried to speak, but the fact that he was dead now and that he hadn't spoken in almost nine months was making it difficult for him. But now that he had that small light of hope, he couldn't back down, he had to try it. Inhuman sounds and growls were the only sounds that he was able to emit, however he didn't gave up on his goal.

"Mmmm... mmm... mmmm... Mmmmmaa... Mmmoo... Mmmmooooll... yyyy..." In another time, Sherlock would have been ashamed of his lack of vocabulary, but now wasn't the time or the place to think about that. The two guards and the doctor gasped in surprise.

"He speaks! But how can this thing speak?" The female guard asked, dumbfounded. The doctor was too thrilled to heard her.

"I knew it! I knew he was different! And you told me I was crazy for trying to make speak a useless corpse. Ha!"

"But why does he call for Molly?" The male guard asked scratching his head.

"I don't know. It's probably because he heard me say her name." She said looking with a frown at the not-so-stupid zombie.

They decided to not pay more attention to the subject, thinking that it was probably a word that had caught his attention. But soon they would see how wrong they were.

* * *

During the next two weeks, 'Molly' was the only word that Sherlock was able and willing to say. He knew that if he could say his wife's name, the possibilities of him being able to sepak another words were really high, but also the possibilities of being able to speak normally were almost minimal. However other words and normal speech didn't appeal to him, he was interested in the name 'Molly' and its meaning.

How blind he had been, if he had paid more attention to the small details instead of grieving and feeling pity for himself, he could have known that somehow Molly and their baby were safe, on the last floor of the building. If he had taken a look at the doctor's notes he always had on his hand he would have seen Molly's name and signal on the bottom of the paper. He was starting to lose his deductive abilities. But for the first time on his 'life', he couldn't care less.

He continued begging, pleading for them; 'Molly' being the only sound that he emitted. Every day, every hour, every second he would call for her. Because he wouldn't give up on them, never. He was willing to fight for them until his 'last breath'.

Until his wish was finally granted. He insisted so much, that the guards finally got tired of him and allowed him to see them. But not for him, for the doctor, because he thought that he and Molly could be related and would be fascinating to see how Sherock would react to her. The baby would have to stay away from him, though. Sherlock ignored the hurt that he wasn't supposed to feel at not being allowed to see his own child.

They had taken drastic security measures, such as having a bulletproof glass keeping them apart. But he was willing to acept that if he could see his Molly again.

When the doors opened, he couldn't help but press himself against the glass. She was just like he remembered her; his tiny, slim and lovely Molly. She seemed so tired, he supposed it had to do with having recently given birth.

When her chestnut brown eyes landed on him, she blinked. And then blinked again while her eyes filled with tears. A sob tore through her, and she ran towards the glass while more sobs emerged from her frail body. He put his hand where her hand rested against the wall, not saying anything. What could he say? He didn't knew any other word other than 'Molly'.

Molly continued crying, because what he had been turned into and because the reencounter that she had long ago lost hope on having. He continued watching in silence, longing to stroke her hair, to hug her with all his strenght and to kiss her soft lips, which he wasn't allowed to do in fear of infecting her. But he was happy.

When his baby, 'Helena' he reminded himself, was a bit older, she would be able to come down with her and meet her Deaddy. He could never touch them or kiss them as he would like to, unless they were wearing a special suit. But as mentioned before, he was happy.

For a second, he felt his heart start beating again.


	18. Jealous rage (Demon!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was really into demonlock lol. I'm trying to edit this a bit because some parts of Sherlock's behavior creep me out.

It was strange having him always at her side, even if she found it sweet and cute, sometimes it was quite frustrating.

She couldn’t go anywhere without him. He was always watching and guarding her. He even growled at any man who was brave enough to speak to her. Not even John and Lestrade were allowed to talk to her without him being present. There were times when she felt like a prisioner.

That’s why she blessed Mary Watson, one of her best friends at college and an obstetrician at Barts. Thank God she suggested a girl's night with another two female nurses at Barts.

Molly was not very sure about how she was going to tell Sherlock about her little hang out. But fortunately he was out on case with John and he wouldn’t notice.

So she put on her tightest dress and her highest heels, because tonight she was going to have fun, because tonight she wasn’t Molly Hooper, pathologist at Barts and mate of a high rank demon, tonight she was free.

* * *

 

She was enjoying a good drink with her friends in one of the most famous pubs in London. They were talking about the new gossips at Barts, cute actors and about their respectives boyfriends. She was having fun, really, and then he came and ruined her evening.

Sherlock stormed through the door like he owned the place. Narrowing his eyes he surveyed the room looking for Molly and trying very hard to not transform right then and there. Once he spotted her he walked towards her  with firm steps. Molly paled and quickly stood up, too embarrassed to look at him in the eye.

Sherlock took advantage of this and examined her choice of clothing, he felt his heart pump furiously.

“Come” He said in a growl.

Molly was about to protest when she noticed that he was barely restraining himself. One more minute and everyone would know.

She bid her goodbyes to her colleages and taking his hand she led him towards the darkened streets. They didn’t bother to take a taxi, they walked as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sherlock couldn’t help but become more agitated at the way some men were looking at Molly. How could she choose such a dress if it wasn’t to be with him? and how dared men to look at what was his?

If took a great amount of his will-power to not change right here and kill everyone who had the courage to look with lust at her. He would mark her when they got home.

* * *

 

When they arrived at Baker Street they went up the stairs in absolute silence, Sherlock with ragged breaths and tightening his hold on Molly.

Once they were inside the safety of 221B Sherlock couldn’t contain himself anymore and changed. Full of rage he began destroying everything he found, including his experiments. Molly wisely stood by the door, knowing he wouldn't harm her, still it would be best to let him release his pent up anger. When she decided that enough was enough, she approached him quietly and embraced him.

“I’m sor-”

He interrupted her with a demanding kiss, and she obediently responded.

“You have been a naughty girl, Molly. Wearing that dress that causes other men to desire you. You knew that it would send me on edge, and despite that you did it. Now It’s time to remind you whom you belong to.” He said huskily, she clenched her tights feeling wetness damp her knickers.

Sherlock didn’t bother giving her anymore explanations, he hauled her over his shoulder and carried her towards their bedroom, with her squealing in delight.


	19. New Can at the Pack (Dog!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long, really long. But I had to take care of something before I kept posting. But now I'm free and I can enjoy summer as a normal human being!  
> This ficlet was inspired by a drawing artbylexie made, but I don't remember the url nor I can find it.

 

Sherlock Holmes, the World's only Great Dane Detective stood looking through the window feeling terribly bored.

 Mrs. Hudson had already walked him three times by then and he was still very bored. Pembrokeson had passed by two times and tried his best to take his toys away but he wasn’t having none of it. He was bored, not stupid.

Sherlock huffed. It was going to be another loooong day without any cases to solve or cats to chase.

John Westie, seeing his friend’s distress that would lead to everyone's misery, tried to cheer him up.

“Aren’t you intriged by the surprise that Mrs. Hudson has prepared for us?” He asked, wagging his tail happily. Sherlock looked at him with a weird look, at least what a dog understood for a weird look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh right, I forgot you were in your Can Palace. Mrs Hudson told us that she was going to give us a surprise. Exciting, isn’t it?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s nervousness. “Very sane for her part to talk to her dogs like we are normal people.”

John growled.”Sherlock! Don’t you dare to talk about her like that. She feeds us, loves us and walks us.”

He didn’t listen, just stood there sulking as much as he could and looking through the window.

“All right, behave like a newborn puppy if you want, I’ll go with Mary.”

Sherlock said nothing and continued to stare at the window while his friend went looking for the female pomeranian. During a good couple of hours nothing happened but then he saw Mrs Hudson carrying a box in her old yet strong arms. Curiosity got the best of him and started barking, alerting the others.

Soon they all found themselves barking at the door impatiently. The barks increased when they heard the keys unlocking the door.

“Whoo-hoo my dears! I’m very happy to see you too, but now I need to sit down and rest a little.”

As soon as at the box was put on the wooden floor everyone was sniffing and moving their tails. Only Greg Huskstrade tried to put any order between them.

“Everybody! take a step back! put your paws were I can see them!”

Sherlock eventually grew bored and returned to his seat near the window. He didn’t look when the box was opened, and tried to ignore the sweet scent of the creature inside it, he even tried to ignore the soft and quiet barks that accompained it’s output. But he couldn’t resist to roll his eyes at Mrs.Hudson excited tone.

“Look what I found! Isn’t she lovely? I found her this morning, the poor thing had been beaten up. What should we call her? She is so lovely… what about Molly? It’s so cute, like her.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and let escape an annoyed sigh. who in their right mind could be so cloying? He didn’t understand all this fuss about a mutt that she had found that morning. By the way, she better stop bringing stray dogs home or she would be known as the crazy dog lady from across the street.

Someone sniffing him snapped him out of his Can Palace. Turning his head he prepared to snap the imbecile ho had dared to interrupt him with their mundane activities. His cold blue eyes found soft hazelnut eyes that belonged to a small and beautiful Cocker Spaniel that just stood there, observing him.

“Hi… I’m Molly, Molly Cocker…” She trailed shyly.

“Hi.” He replied. He couldn’t help but notice how she barely could put her left front paw on the floor. That made him fell rabid. Who could beat such a fagile thing? Humans like that disgusted him.

“Nice spot you have there in the sun. Can I lay here at your side?” she asked looking down, obviously feeling stupid for even asking.

 If she had been another dog, he would have said no, he would have growled and even snapped something cruel at them. But soon, he found that shockingly he couldn’t said her no, not when she was looking at him with those eyes.

He nodded and she quietly lay on the ground resting on his side. Feeling her small body pressed against his larger one stirred something very animal in him.

In a matter of seconds he understood that he would never be able to say no to her. No matter what she asked of him.


	20. Animal lover (Parent!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I remember I wrote this inspired by my bun and hammies. *sigh* I miss them so much.  
> Anyway, please enjoy this parent!lock!

Helena Adara Holmes ran down the hallways of St.Barts clutching the bulge that was on her jacket closely to her chest with one hand and holding fiercely her Hello Kitty bag with the other. She knew what she had done wasn’t good, but she happily would do it again if that meant saving more innocent lives.

Her family may lecture her and even ground her for doing ‘such a trivial and useless mission’ as her father would call it, but she didn’t care. All that mattered for her was that her friends were safe.

On her running she crashed into something that made her stumble backwards and land on her butt. Looking up to see what had made her fall she paled and couldn’t help but shiver when she discovered that it wasnt sonmething, but someone.

Someone whose blueish-green eyes were looking down at her, piercing her soul and looking dissapointed and bored at the same time. Helena had the misfortune of crashing into her father, Sherlock Holmes. Before she dared to say something, he spoke:

“May I ask why you are here instead of being at school? It’s not that I care that you are doing better things with your time than going to that devilish center, I myself admit that going to school is a mundane activity and unworthy of an intelligence like ours, but your mother seems concerned with your education and I’m prety sure that you don’t want to upset her. So consider yourself lucky, because for the first time I will repeat myself: What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” He repeated the last words dangerously slow, like when he was about to throw a tantrum. The calm before the storm.

"I… I didn’t feel like going to school so I thought that I could pay you a visit at work…” She suddenly regretted saying those words because they only worsened her father’s mood. How could she lie to Sherlock Holmes and believe she could get away scot-free?

He arched an elegant eyebrow and started pacing around her, like a predator would do to his prey, or in this case, like an angered father would do to his disobedient child.

“Do you really thought…” He stopped trying to calm himself and to not scare his daughter, the tone he used with criminals was far from appropiate for his own child. He took a deep breath and started talking again waving his arms and hands wildly and dramatically as he paced.

“Do you _really_  thought for a second that  _I_ , Sherlock Holmes, World’s _only_  Consulting Detective and  _your_  father would believe such an unelaborated lie like if _I_  were one of those fools?” He spat the word 'fools' like it was venom.

Helena flinched a little, clutching more tightly the bundle hidden on her jacket and readjusting her bag. Her father had never liked to be taken for granted. It made him think that people believed that he was an ordinary and dull' being. Unfortunately for her, he noticed her movements and that piqued his curiosity.

"Helena, what are you doing here and what are you hiding in your jacket?”

She sighed, knowing that lying again would be stupid and very risky of grounding. So she zipped down the zip of her jacket and pulled out the small black and white lop bunny. Sherlock arched his eyebrow again, but before he had time to speak she opened her bag and showed him the five hamsters that were in it.

“What does this mean?” He asked cautiosly.

“They were going to experiment on them, and I couldn’t let them!” She told him hugging the little rabbit.

Sherlock stood frozen, looking at her. Only her mother genetics and teachings would make her do something so selfless and sweet for another form of life. And that warmed his heart like nothing else.

“Alright, let’s go home before your mother finds you and scolds both of us.” He said taking her small hand on his bigger one.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Can I keep the rabbit at least?”

“… only if your mother agrees.”


	21. Childhood Friends (Dragon!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly a continuation of the first chapter of this compilation, but it is more or less the same plot.

An elf child ran through the forest, laughing as her animal friends ran along with her.

“I bet you I’m faster than all of you combined” She said between giggles.

Molly always had so much fun with the squirrels, rabbits and fawns, their friendship meant the world to her. After all the stress from home and her medical studies, she felt she was going to burst with anxiety if she didn't loosen up a little. It was a mere coincidence she met them, she felt like her head was going to explode if she didn't took a break, so she decided to go for a walk, and maybe explore the forest for a bit to clear her mind. Now, she could spend hours walking through the forest and playing with her friends until her father called for her.

She wasn’t looking where she was running, being as lost as she was in her thoughts of freedom and fun, so when a rock appeared on her way she didn’t notice it and tripped, falling in a very unladylike manner that probably would make the refined elfs faint, had any of them seen it. When she sat back on the grass, wincing from the pain, she noticed that her knees were full of scratches that were bleeding a little and hurt like hell. Using the few healing spells her father had taught her, she cleaned her cuts and the skin closed as if it hadn't torn open in the first place.

She wondered how could she have tripped, if she had run through that path thousands of times. She frowned when she saw a very suspicious looking rock in the middle of the way, a rock that had never been there before. Approaching closer towards the rock, Molly discovered that it wasn’t a normal rock, in fact, it was no rock at all. It was an egg, a very big and very shiny egg. Feeling curious and brave, she caressed the shell as gently as she could, since she didn't want it to break before hatching. Its surface was cold to the touch… weren’t eggs supposed to be hot and warm?

The realization of the responsibility that had fallen upon her hit her like a wagon and she panicke. If she didn’t do something the bird inside that egg would  die! Desperate, Molly could not think of anything else but sit on the egg, covering it with her skirts to preserve warmth, so that's what she did. In Hopes that it would warm the not-so-little bird.

Three hours passed and nothing happened, the egg remained unmovile. Just as she was starting to lose hope, the egg started moving. It all began with a light tremor, but soon it started to move with more intensity, causing her to fall to the ground with her squirrrel friends that had formed a barrier around the egg to warm it but now where backing away as if it was going to burn them.

They all stared in awe at the process of hatching of the strange bird, but as it went on, they were starting to notice that maybe they shouldn't look for a bird. There weren’t any feathers or beak to see, only a snout and scales, red shining scales that made the young elf want to touch them and caress them gently.

Soon they saw that there wasn’t any kind of bird but a dragon baby. He didn't look like any of the feared dragons the elders warned the younglings about. This poor thing was trembling, looking around confused and could hardly stand on all fours. When the elf approached him he lowered his head and stepped back, letting out a small growl in warning. He was afraid of the strange girl and Molly felt her heart fill with compassion for the small beast.

“Come on, don’t be afraid. I don’t want to hurt you, see? I’m your friend.” She said in her sweetest voice. It was important for Molly he saw her as a friend, someone he could count on when he was in trouble. She would rather hurt herself than let any harm come upon this dragon.

The dragon narrowed his big yellow eyes and stepped towards her to sniff her hand. When he felt satisfied, he decided he would trust her, so he stepped foward again to press his snout on her hand.

“That’s right, now we are friends. My name is Molly and I’m 8 years old. What’s your name?”

The dragon titled his head confused. Molly frowned.

“Ah, right. You have just been born. You don’t have a name yet." She said, smacking her head at her stupidity. " What if we find you a good one … Do you like Benny?”

The dragon shook his head negatively.

“And what about Martin?”

The dragon flared his nostrils causing a small cloud of smoke to come out from his nose. Molly giggled at his indignant expression.

“Alright, I’m going to call you Smaug, hi Smaug!.” She cheered. The dragon moved his tail happily and purred when she petted him. He was going to like this strange girl. His Molly.

“Yes, Smaug. This is the begining of a great friendship.”

* * *

 

_184 years later…_

Smaug rolled on the mountain of gold, feeling not for the first time empty and lonely. But Smaug didn’t want the company of any simple and pathetic form of life, he needed a person in specific, the only one who could fill the empty hollowness that had settled in his heart.

He needed her, his Molly, his only friend, his only family, his most valued possession. But she wasn’t there, and it angered him, because he always got what he wanted! He was Smaug the Terrible! The most powerful and feared dragon! But no matter how much he raged, she still wasn’t there. That only fueled his rage.

To show the world how frustrated he was, he let out a thundering roar and a powerful blaze escaped from his mouth. The ground and the columns shook with his outburst. Smaug felt satisfied knowing that the rats of Laketown would be cowering in fear.

He rested his head on his paws, remembering all the good moments they spent togheter before these damned elves got them separated. He snarled, they all would pay for taking his friend away from him.

The scent in the air changed, and he raised his guard, knowing that could only mean foolish intruders had found a way to sneak in. Well, it was good for him, as he was feeling hungry. He could differentiate three separated scents from the group of thieves: the first one was the stink of those filthy dwarves, hadn't they had enough? were they that stupid and big-headed?;  the second one was foreign to him, but he bet it was tasty; and, finally, the last one… he froze. The last one was one that he would recognize everywhere and everytime.

It was her. His Molly.

Smaug smirked, showing a row of teeth that were as sharp as the mightiest swords. It seemed that the new self-proclaimed King under the mountain was going to get his Queen back.


	22. Labyrinth!lock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I saw for the first time Labyrinth...  
> Also, I wanted to thank you all for all the love in the comments (yes, I do read them), and I have to say there are interesting ideas for future fics, but for now, I'll stick to these, which were written about 4 or 5 years ago and when I'm finished with them I think I'll write some of them.

She was so different from the other ones who had tried to solve his labyrinth. In fact, that was something that both pleased and angered Sherlock, Goblin King and ruler of the Labyrinth. Unlike the others, she had seemed to resolve with incredible ease its most powerful enigmas, surprising him because he had been the one to create those riddles. She had also managed to not give in into any temptation he may throw her way, she was such a determined and strong young woman.

“She has the gifts of beauty and intelligence… mmm… such an interesting woman…” He mused while he watched her figure her way through another of his complex challenges.

He continued observing her while she tried to find him. In her brave, yet foolish, quest, she was being helped by whom she thought were her friends, but were actually spies sent by no other than himself. His consuelor and best friend, John Watson; and the captain of his guard, Lestrade were proving to be such a good allies on his campaign to keep the child on his castle. And maybe, if he desired so, he could keep that girl too.

But something was not right. Those he believed to be  _his_ servants seemed that they were starting to care about the young girl and her well being. And that unnerved him. He kept telling that it was because they worked for _him_ not for her. He would never admit that it was because of those smiles she constantly gave them, but never him. She never smiled at him. He felt something akin to jealously crept into him. It hurt him a lot.

* * *

 

Molly had finally reached the castle, it had been a long and tiresome journey, but thank to her new friends it had ended sooner than she had expected. She had already forgiven John for giving her that drugged cherry, in fact, she was a little thankful, because since when a simple girl like her could dress like a princess and dance with the most handsome king in the entire universe? She would be lying if she said that she didn’t find him attractive. Sherlock was beautiful and brilliant, but unfortunately he  was  also arrogant, cruel, selfish, manipulative and childish. Maybe he wasn’t the perfect man he thought he was. But those cheekbones! Those Cupid’s bow lips! Those shirts that showed his lean but muscled chest! Those tight pant-

“Stop it, Molly. You have to save your brother first! No time for fangirling!” She chastised herself.

Feeling sad and heartbroken, she said goodbye to her dear friends and ventured inside the castle. At first she couldn’t see anything that would give her any clue about her brother's whereabouts, just stairs, a million of stairs. Up and down, from the left to the right, always confusing her. It reminded her of a painting she once saw when she was younger.

“You don’t have to do this anymore. Why would you care for something that annoys you and only causes you trouble?” A deep voice said at her back.

Molly froze but tried to keep a brave facade. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her afraid.

“Because he’s my brother, and I care for him.”

He let out a thundering laugh that echoed through the empty stairways and approached her. He got so close he was almost invading her personal space. 'It's a game of intimidation', she supposed

“Caring, It’s not an advantage. Love it’s just a chemical defect from the human brain. It’s only an stupid distraction from what's really important. You wasted precious time running through my labyrinth, time that you could have spent staying home and having fun.”

“I won’t go without him. Give him back to me!” She shouted and he smirked.

“And what if I don’t want to? I make the rules here, I could decide to not return this human child to his world.”

“What do you want in exchange?” She offered. He stood frozen for a moment, stunned. He certainly didn’t expected that response from her. He kept silent but she insisted, not willing to throw in the towel. Her brother needed her, she was the one that got them into this mess and no stupid king would get in her way to make things right again.

“What do you need?” She asked desperately.

She was being serious? For real? She really though that she could possibly offer something to him? Well, now that he thought about it…

“You.”

“What?” She asked dumbfounded.

“I’ve said that I want you and only you. That will be my compensation. You’ll be my possession, you’ll live here in the castle and you’ll fear me, respect me and love me. That’s the only things I ask you.”

She really had to think this through, this wasn’t something easy to decide, her entire life depended on it, goddamnit!. She could have Toby back in their world, safe and sound, but she would remain there living as a prisioner of the Goblin King. She loved Toby, more than anything in the world, even if he was sometimes a pest and a brat. The decision was made, she knew she would regret it later but if it got Toby to safety she would do it without second thought.

“I’ll stay with you. But take my brother back to our home.”

“Your ex-home.” He corrected her, smugly. She felt like she had been slapped. How could he be so cruel?

“Yes, my ex-home.” She nodded numbly.

As soon as he exited the room to return the kid to his world, she collapsed on the floor sobbing. Fifteen minutes later, when her crying had subsided, she stood up with red puffy eyes and a feeling of anger in her heart instead of despair.

“He wants me to love him, I would rather love a serial killer than him! He will regret keeping me on his castle! I swear it!”

Little did she know that her brave short speech was listened by a Goblin King that had just have his feelings hurt. Hiding in the darkness as always, Sherlock watched Molly recompose herself and keep walking towards God knew where. He charmed the stairs so they would lead her to her own private chambers. As soon as he was left alone he murmured with a heavy heart: “And I swear that I will do my best to make you feel like a queen from now on, my sweet Molly. I’ll never let you go.”


	23. Queen Under the Mountain (Dragon!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the following fic to "Childhood Friends". I'll be going away for a week so I'll barely be here. But when I return I'll start posting more regularly, I promise.

Molly opened her eyes slowly. The ground beneath her felt cold, hard, and very _very_ uncomfortable. Extending one arm, she discovered that she wasn’t laying on the ground, but on coins, million of coins, jewels, and gems. She froze, knowing where she was, and if she was inside Erebor that could only mean that Smaug was also there with her.

She swallowed hard, he wasn’t the same sweet baby dragon that she met those years ago. Now he was a dangerous monster corrupted by the mountain and all its treasures. Like King Thror had been. She had to get out of there quick, before he appeared and did something to her.

Frantically, she looked around the chamber, hoping to find any clue that showed her that Smaug was still there or any way of escaping that wasn't too far from where she was, but she found none. All their shared experiences had made her particularly sensible to his presence, and despite he was hidden from sight, Molly could feel him, sleeping next to her, buried on a large mountain of gold.

Sleeping? No, she knew that despite his eyes were closed, he was always kept his guard up, just in case a burglar came and tried to steal from him. Running away was impossible. No matter how many times she tried to escape, she was stuck there until he got bored.

 With a sigh of defeat she climbed the mountain of gold and sat behind a column, hoping that Smaug didn’t see her crying.

A gigantic tail raised from the gold and enveloped her in a comforting embrace. She swore she heard a loud anguished whine coming from behind the column. But she chose to ignore it.

* * *

 

 Time went by, she guessed it must had been about an hour, when she started hearing footsteps, they belonged to a man, probably, since she was the only woman in the Company. They were quite light and for a second they stoped, as if he was hesitant to enter the room. The moment she saw that shaggy hair, she recognised her savior.

“Bilbo!” She hissed.

The hobbit froze and looked around with his heart in his throat. Relief flowed through his face when he saw her.

“Molly!” He said a bit too much loud.

“Shhhhh!” She reprimanded him, with her index finger on her lips and the other index finger pointing towards the huge mountain of gold that was covering the dragon.

“Oh, god what are we going to do?.” He whispered, body shaking. He definitely was not ready for this.

“You have to run, all of you. You are not safe here.”

“But, what about you?”

“I can’t run. He won't let me.”

Bilbo snorted.

“Don’t be silly, of course you can. Here, take my hand.”

He started to walk towards her, completely oblivious to the fact that Smaug was awake and was looking at him with murder on his golden eyes. His long tail slowly wrapped around Molly’s waist discretely and when the hobbit was near enough he tightened his hold on her and lifted her in the air, causing her to squeal in surprise, while his enormous head emerged from the gold.

Bilbo, sensing that the worst was about to come, put the ring on his finger and disappeared. But It was too late, because Smaug had already smelt him and picked his scent.

“WELL, THIEF. WHERE ARE YOU? I SSSMELL YOU, I CAN HEAR YOUR BREATHING…”

With every word he spoke his hold on Molly tightened possessively and lifter her even higher, at least high enough to make her impossible to reach.

“Please Smaug, put me down! there’s nobody here!” She pleaded, knowing it was futile to fool the dragon, he was as old as he was wise.

“DO YOU THINK ME A FOOL? I’VE SSSEEN HIM! I’VE SSSEEN HOW HE DARED TO REACH YOU AND TRIED TO TOUCH YOU ASSS IF YOU WERE HISSS!”

She froze at his tone. He seemed desesperate, trying to prove something. To her, to himself, to Bilbo; who knew.

“YOU ARE MINEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!” He roared slamming against one of the columns and breaking it into pieces.

She screamed out loud, in fear and panic. It was only her scream what made Smaug stop.

“My queen… Do not fear me… I’m your friend…”

“You are not my friend… At least not anymore…"  She whispered, but it wasn’t necessary for her to talk in a normal tone of voice, for the dragon’s sensitive hearing had caught her words.

Moving her in front of him so they could be face to face, he frowned. She smelled like fear, distrust, disapontment, and sadness. The last one was the most persistent.

"What happened to you Smaug? you were so sweet and caring. You were my best friend, my only companion, I loved you…” She said failing to notice the hot tears that were rolling down her face, Smaug’s gaze softened, and she could see on his eyes a glimpse of the tiny dragon she had loved so much and taken care of so many years ago.

She could see from the corner of her eye Bilbo taking off the ring from his finger, grabbing the Arkenstone on his small hands and leaving the room to reunite with the others, but not before sending a worried glance towards her. She nodded and gestured for him to leave  and to try to be as cautious as he could.

When Bilbo left the chamber she directed her attention towards Smaug who was eyeing her curiously. She cleared her throat, she knew what she had to do. It was long time overdue.

“Smaug, please, listen to me, I beg you. If we stay here the only thing we are going to get is killed. Please, I’ll go with you anywhere, but staying here will only bring us despair and sorrow. Please Smaug, I want us to be together again.”

Smaug went silent, meditating her offer. She knew it was nearly imposible to convince him to leave the mountain, but she had to try.

After nearly five minutes of consideration, Smaug finally spoke.

“Would you really be with me and only me? Would you be by my side all the time? Would you let me be the only one to be with you, to cherish you, and to love you?” There was a hint of possessiveness and mistrust on his voice, and she didn’t blame him. Gold was something that all dragons craved, without exception. Why would he leave behind all of this riches for a girl he once knew?

Smaug growled in impatience and distrust. He had been waiting so long for her, that he didn’t know what he would do if she told him no. Knowing himself and his infamous temper, he would probably kill every form of life that lived in a hundred kilometers ratio.

“If that makes you leave the mountain so you can be safe, then I’ll do it a million of times.”

Smaug narrowed his eyes searching for any hidden lie in her voice, but to his relief, he found none.

“Do we have a deal then?” He said dangerously slow. She needed to express her verbal consent, otherwise he would feel like she was doing all these out of obligation instead of really desiring his companionship.

“Yes, we have a deal.” She said softly, no anger of sadness to be found in her voice. Just relief, and a hidden emotion he couldn't place right then.

“Good.” He started walking towards the entrance with her still trapped in his tail. When he was at the doors he stopped dead on his tracks and glanced back at her.

“Just a little reminder. If anyone, no matter the race, gender, sex or species, dares to touch you without my permission or even thinks that they can take you away from me, I'll kill them without mercy. Have I made myself clear, my queen? ”

She sighed, knowing that those were very dastric measures, but she loved him more than anything in the world, and now that she had him back she would do anything to keep him safe. Even never seeing her own race and her friends ever again.

“Yes, my King.”

He snorted with vanity and puffed out his chest proudly when he heard that his ‘Queen’ recognised him as her King. He extended his mighty wings, creating a huge shadow that loomed all over Laketown. With a gracous leap he rose in the air.

He flew away with his queen safe in his hold, thinking about how fun would have been stay there and observe how the Arkenstone and the gold corrupted the men and the dwarves, driving them mad and making them kill each other. It was a shame that he couldn't be the cause those deaths, or at least see them; but he had more important matters on his claws.

Soon, very soon, after that blood bath that Erebor would become. The Abhorred would return and claim his revenge. But they would be far away from them, in a new home, starting a new wonderful life together. No one would dare to separate them again.


	24. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those slaps really were something. Finally Molly got to slap that little shit. Frankly, I think they really made an impression on him. I think that was the wake-up call he needed to stop behaving like an asshole.

Pain.That was the only thing that existed if he was around. Since the first time they saw each other, he had always caused her pain, even if she insisted on denying it to herself. She still remembered that fatidic first meeting, in which she not only fell in love, but also got her heart broken.

_She was only a lab assistant, recently graduated from university. It was her first day at Barts and she was nervous. Dr. Blaise, her superior, had done everything for her to feel comfortable and accepted on that new enviroment. Still, she couldn’t help feeling that insecurity of beginning a new job in a huge city._

“ _Don’t worry Miss Hooper, in a couple of days you will feel like you had been working here your entire life.”_

_She had nodded, nervous. She knew she was fidgeting with her fingers and cruching her knuckles, a bad habit that she had picked up during her first year at college._

_Dr. Blaise kindly went to grab coffee for them both to put her more at ease. While she waited, she decided put the lab supplies and test tubes out so they were more accesible. All of a sudden, a figure wrapped in a black Belstaff coat and a bright blue scarf that looked more expensive than all her wardrobe combine, entered the morgue as if he owned the place. He was the most gorgeous man that she had ever seen. Tall, pale, with high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes and dark curly hair that probably was very soft to the touch. He stood there with a regal air, his eyes narrowed, analyzing the room and her. Then he huffed in irritation._

“ _Recently graduated college and top student of her class, ordinary. Boring. You look as if you don't have many friends, and it isn’t a surprise, considering that you must be the ‘weird girl with a love of death. You have a cat, one that is not very affectionate, seeing the scratches on your neck and bitemarks on your fingers. Both of your parents are dead and you have no more family. You are utterly alone in the world, but you are planning to remedy that by marrying and having children. I suggest you to stop trying, because your proffession will surely repel all men you will ever show interest in. If Dr. Blaise comes back please tell him to refrain himself to bring lovesick schoolgirls to my morgue. If he’s so eager to get rid of me, at least he should hire someone more competent than you.” And after that tirade, he  walked out the door with his coat flapping like a cape, then he reentered._

“ _By the way, I’m Sherlock Holmes. And it hasn’t been a pleasure.”_

_When he was definitively out from the morgue, she couldn’t contain the sigh of relief and the tears that she had been holding for so long. He was probably right at everything, and he didn’t even know her name, why would he even ask for it?. When Dr. Blaise arrived, the best Molly could do was mask her feelings and pretend that nothing had happened while he was out.The next day, Sherlock came again as if nothing had happened and sat near his microscope, examining some DNA samples. Neither of them talked and Molly couldn’t help but feel like she had fallen in love and had her heart broken at the same time._

Molly winced because that memory, but she decided to continue with her tests, after all, the past is in the past and the best thing to do was forget it and move on with her life. Sherlock was always a little shit to everyone, whether he wanted to or not. Still, it seemed that her mind didn’t agree with her because again it reminded her all the moments of her life when she had been humiliated by Sherlock. All those hurtful words resonated on her head.

“ _Miss Hooper has love on her mind…”_

“ _Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her lips and breasts…”_

“ _The size of her lips and breasts…”_

“ _The size…”_

_Too small._

Molly clenched her fists and closed her eyes, trying to delete that nasty memory. However, it was replaced by another even more painful. The one from the next day, Christmas Day, when he recognised that woman with a perfect body  'not by her face’. She had never felt more humiliated and pathetic. Not even the anxiety to see the results from Sherlock’s urine test could make her forget those painful memories. She just needed to wait a few seconds more and they would be able to see the results. If she could hold herself until then...

“Is he clean?” John asked.

When she saw the results, Molly froze and unconciously she brought her left hand to the right, caressing the faint scars on the back, while fear and a deep feeling of anger invaded her body.

_She had been working at Barts for eleven months, and Sherlock had finally recognised her competence, even if it was only to get coffee and show him new bodies after he gave her fake compliments about her appearence and achievements. While she fantasized with those dark curls and with that penetrating look that looked like if he could see everything, that day she didn’t notice that the doors of the morgue were slammed open with more force than normal. Through the doors came hastily Sherlock Holmes, and he looked horrible. His impeccable clothes were all wrinkled, his forehead was sweaty, he was disheveled and his pupils were dilated. It wasn’t a mystery in Barts or New Scotland Yard that Sherlock Holmes took drugs in order to get some excitement while he was bored, but Molly had never seen him so high._

“ _MOLLY!” He bellowed. She jumped at his booming voice_

“ _Yes, Sherlock?” She said with a mousy voice. Somehow, she got a bad feeling about that, so better keep calm and at a safe distance._

“ _WHERE ARE MY RESULTS?” He demanded. Molly didn’t dare to contradict his demands or to ask him to ask her more nicely._

“ _H-here they are, S-Sherlock.” She said giving him a few papers and backing away from him as far as she could. The storm was about to be unleashed and she didn't want to get caught in it._

_His face made a frown frown, and then morphed into pure rage, Molly couldn’t help but step back scared._

“ _THEY ARE WRONG! ALL WRONG!” He roared. Molly’s eyes filled with tears, she was afraid of him. Gone was the cold and snobby Sherlock, this was a man not to be messed with. She was starting to miss the Sherlock that cut her down with his cruel remarks._

_Sherlock threw the papers to the ground and in his frenzy, he broke several lab supplies. On an impulse induced by cocaine and heroine and whatever else he was tripping on, he caught a broken test tube and went towards Molly with crazy eyes._

“ _THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU BITCH! YOU GOT THEM WRONG!”_

_He lifted the sharp glass, and without knowing what he was doing he tried to attack Molly. Luckily, she saw it coming and could use her right hand as a shield between her face and the sharp glass._

_Molly screamed in pain._

_Sherlock froze in horror, recovering what little common sense and humanity he had left._

_A small trail of blood emmanated from the wound._

_After that Molly couldn’t work in Barts for a month because of the injuries of her right hand stopped her from handling a scalpel and due to the trauma Sherlock had caused her. She never told anyone what had happened, not even her closest colleages at Barts, partly because she didn't want to be seen as the 'poor little victim that needed to be protected from the bad man' and because she didn't want to cause Sherlock any kind of problems, but if he kept getting that high, she would have no choice but report him to the police._

_Sherlock Holmes didn’t go to Barts for three months. When he did finally show, he had rehabilitated and he looked as stunning as always, but despite that Molly was happy that the man she so desperately loved was healthy again, she couldn’t help but feel scared everytime he came near her. If she stammered before, now it was worse, because now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget that glass cutting her hand._

“Clean?” Molly said, biting her tongue and trying to avoid letting out all the swear words that existed in the dictionary that were threatening to escape. Her mouth twisted in a forced smile that looked like a terrifying grimace. Slow, dangerously slow, she turned towards the scruffy Sherlock and looked at him right in the eye. She would never live that nightmare again. Now, she was the one that was going to cause all the pain.

*SLAP!* … *SLAP!*… *SLAP!*

“How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with!? And how dare you betray the love of your friends!? Say you’re sorry!”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. Oh, that bitch was going to fight back. 'Well, bring it on'. Molly thought bitterly.

“Sorry your engagement is over. Though I’m fairly grateful for the lack of ring.” He said with all the venom he could muster. Molly flinched, and sighed, defeated. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why couldn't he be more considerate of his friends' feelings? If he didn't do it for himself or for her, at least he should try for John or Mary.

“Stop it… Just stop it…” She said, suddenly feeling very tired and done with everything. Unconciously, she caressed her scars, movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock, whose heart clenched painfully, reminding him of that fateful day when he hurt her so badly.

* * *

 

After leaving Molly with her sorrow. The three of them returned to Baker Street. While John and Mary were busy reassuring Mrs. Hudson that everything was okay, Sherlock went upstairs, and into his flat, when he encountereed Mycroft, sitting on his chair, with a serious look on his face.

“Brother.” He greeted.

“What do you want, Mycroft?” He scoffed. If he wasn't in the mood for a urine test, he certainly wasn't in the mood for his brother's criticism.

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to know if you have stopped hurting the people who cares about you. Especially Dr. Hooper. Didn't you damage her enough during your old drug addict days?”

Sherlock stiffened, and Mycroft knew that he had touched a nerve.

“Why do you always hurt the only woman who you could ever 'love’?” He pronounced the word with disgust. Sherlock huffed in annoyance.

“I have never loved her. She's just a friend” He knew Mycroft would always see through his lies. But maybe if he kept telling himself that, that lie would become his truth.

“Don’t lie to me, little brother, I’m not as thick headed as you believe me to be. Did you think that I wouldn’t notice all that longing glances you threw towards her? The way you clenched your fists everytime she talked about going on a date with someone that wasn’t you? All that brooding persona you adopted to show off?”

Sherlock slowly turned around to face his insufferable brother.

“Why do you care about her feelings?” Suddenly the thought of Mycroft having some kind of relationship with _his_ pathologist became sickening.

“I don’t care about her feelings, but even I know that what you did to her was very 'not good’”. He said using one of John favorite phrases to remind him of what he had done wrong. For the first time in his life, Sherlock was silenced by his brother.

“She’s afraid of you hurting her again, she’s scared you. She may be attracted to you but she fears that you’ll attack her again. You may trust her, but she doesn’t trust you.”

Sherlock heart twisted painfully on his chest. Suddenly breathing was a hard task.

“I went to rehab for her… for all the damage I had caused her…” Sherlock said weakly.

“She may be too emotional, and a social disaster. But I thought that she would turn you into a good man, brother. If you want, I could tell Mummy, she will know how to help you with your... addictions”.

“No! Don’t tell her. I’ve caused her enough pain for the rest of her life." He sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now please, leave me alone.”

Surprisingly, Mycroft obeyed and left Baker Street. Sherlock managed to stood up and walked slowly to his room. Mycrof was right.'That git'. He thought. He had been in love with her since the first time he saw her. But caring wasn’t an advantage, he couldn’t be distratcted. Work was important, love was not. But still, he felt that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach everytime a male nurse tried to flirt with her and she flirted back.

He had made way too much mistakes with her and now she didn’t trust him and even feared him. He was a psychopath, like Anderson had said. He had never intended cutting her hand, hell, he didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late.

That day, her eyes, usually full of life and love for him were empty, instead there were only fear and tears. His heart nearly broke when he saw that she was afraid of him and that he could really lose her for good if he didn't change things for the better.

He only caused her pain, she deserved more than him (but not Tom, never that meat-dagger) but he was a selfish man and he wanted her all for himself. He would leave the drugs, the lies, and the hurtful comments if that made her smile at him again.

There wouldn’t be more fear, there wouldn’t be more pain.


	25. Dif You Miss Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was from that time when we were all going mad about Jim's sudden reappearance haha.

_Did you miss me?_

Sherlock woke up feeling dizzy, his head ached and his limbs were completely inmovilized. What the hell had happened? He was at home and then, blackness!

Opening his eyes he analized everything that surrounded him as the tiniest details could have vital information of his whereabouts.

_Warehouse, near the Thames, used as a textil factory, built in 1950, nobody owns it…_

“Ah! I see you’re awake, Sherly!" 

Sherlock froze when he heardd that familiar gleeful voice. He only knew one psychopath had that voice, and he was dead… or so he thought. But that was impossible! Faking one's death by jumping off a building was easy, but he had blown his brains outs!  _Once you eliminate the impossible..._

"Oh, you must be thirsty! Seb, be a good boy and give him a glass of water.”

Sherlock ignored the glass Moran was offering him and sneered. By no means he was allowed to show fear.

“Why are you still alive, Moriarty? What do you want?”

Moriarty feigned a dissapointed groan and sat on the ground crossing his legs.

“No, no no! You were supposed to deduce that I had also survived! What happened to you Sheer-Luck? I thought you were smarter but it seems that you hit your head really hard when you fell.”

“Shut up, Moriarty and tell me, what wretched plan, which obviously I will foil, are you elaborating to destroy me? Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time? I outsmarted you.”

Moriarty stood in deep thought for several minutes and then started to laugh. Sherlock’s brow furrowed in confusion, that was a bad signal, a very bad one.

“It has nothing to do with you, my dear Sherly. It’s all about something you have that I want.”

“And what do I supposedly have that you want so badly?”

Jim smirked, that bastard had no idea. Finally, he would be one step ahead of that succulent intellect.

“A woman.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed even more than before, since when did he have a woman?.

“A woman? Which woman? are you talking about The Woman? She’s dead, Moriarty and she was never mine.” He huffed in anoyance, what a waste of time, why wouldn’t he tell his plan so he could dismantle it?

“Not that woman, Sherl, I mean _your_  woman. The only woman that could possibily hold your black heart.”

“I don’t have any woman. I don’t do relationships, I’m married to my work.”

“It’s a pity. But well, I think I’ve still have a chance with my little mouse. Your loss is my gain.”

Sherlock’s heart stopped for a second.

“Mouse?” He asked warily.

“Well, of course. That little and elusive pathologist at Barts. Don't you remember her? our lovely Dr. Hooper!”

Sherlock gritted his teeth unconciously.

“What could you possibily want from her?”

Moriarty laughed and stood up.

“I want her, everything about her fascinates me. How she can pass unnoticed when she is the key of everything, how she sees everyone, how she always loves everything around her, no matter how bad and broken it is…”

Moriarty suddenly stopped, a mischievous gleam on his eyes, he was enjoying the effects his words had on Sherlock.

Sherlock had his fists clenched and his eyes burned with fire. Yes, Jim decided, he was definitely going to enjoy this.

The game was on, and this time seemed more interesting than ever.


	26. It's Alive (Frankenstein AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was part of a much bigger work I once posted in fanfiction. I had to delete it because it was going nowhere and I had reached a dead end. But the first chapter looked like a good oneshot, so I wanted to post it here as well. Frankenstein AU has always been one of my favorite AUs because it is also one of my favorite books, and because Benedict and Johnny did a wonderful job playing both Victor and Adam's parts. I won't post more than this chapter because I can't find the rest and because since it is an unfinished fic, it would cut off very abruptly.

_London, 1813_

Dr. John Watson stood still for several minutes, admiring the imposing mansion that was behind the rusty gates. It was a three floors mansion, with large rectangular windows and decorative motifs that gave it a really sinister appearence but very appropiate to the architectonic tendencies of this era. Despite the well-known Earl of Warwick’s obsession with social status and elegance, the mansion left much to be desired regarding cleanliness. It was obvious in the walls of the facade that the mansion had received its last good coat of paint a very long time ago. The gardens needed several arrangements as well, because the weeds, the banks and statues covered with mold and ivy gave the impression of a small jungle instead of a respectable home.

John was torn between whether to enter or not. What in Heaven would someone as important as the pompous and snobbish Earl of Warwick want from a former army doctor with a small clinic in the City? He wasn’t from a wealthy family, damn he wasn’t even the best of his field. So why him when he probably had an army of doctors from the aristocracy at his beck and call?

“There’s only one way to find out.” He said to no one in particular, but at least it eased the feeling of loneliness he got from looking at that mansion.

With a strong push he got the worn rusty doors of the gate opened with a plaintive squeak. A breath of cold air slapped his face when he put a foot in the gardens, and made him shiver. For a second he wondered what his wife would do if she was in his position. 

“Probably would take a kitchen knife and prune the weeds to break through.” He said with a smile. She was way more reckless than him, maybe they should have called her instead.

In a hurry, almost making a sprint towards the entrance, he crossed the garden trying not to tangle with a branch or trip on any of the hidden roadblocks. When he reached the porch, he could not help but let out a contented sigh. The worst was over, or so he thought.

With all the courage he could muster, he knocked three times on the door to indicate that he had arrived. Not even thirty seconds had passed when the front door was opened and an elderly woman appeared.She was small of height, with short sandy hair and a motherly and serene expression that seemed to bring youth to her aging face. They spent a couple of awkward seconds staring at each other until he finally decided to speak.

“Good morning ma'am, I’m Dr. John Watson. I was called because my services were required.”   
The woman frowned until finally she seemed to remember.   
“Ah, of course! Follow me, dear. Master Holmes is waiting.”

On the inside, the mansion looked even more sinister than the outside, if that was even possible. The windows were closed, the curtains drawn, most of the furniture was covered with a sheet and those which were not, were quite dusty and covered in mold due to the heavy humidity that lingered in the air. It was like a dark abandoned house.

“I always tell Master Holmes he should do some general cleaning. How is he going to court a proper lady if he has this mess of a house? As I always say, a bit of cleaning makes the most abhorrent of holes a home. Ladies of these days value the most a clean and cozy home …” The housekeeper kept chattering but John did not pay her much attention, he was more focused on the portraits that seemed to follow him with their gaze. He shivered, suddenly remembering all those horrifying tales he had heard from his comrades during his nights of duty on the battlefield.

After what felt like hours, they finally arrived to a huge living room. Inside there was a young woman who was currently looking with a huge intensity to a portrait hanging on the fireplace. The portrait, like the rest of the house was full of dust, but did not seem very old, it could not have more than ten years. It showed a young man that looked very serious,with a cold look in his blue-green eyes, high cheekbones and dark curly hair, everything in him smelled like danger and mystery. He looked more like the romantic hero of a novel than an actual human being.

The woman noticed the presence of another person in the room and jerked backwards, a blush rising on her cheeks at being caught showing that much interest for the man in the painting. She was a young woman of small stature, with hazel eyes and chestnut hair pulled back in a messy bun. She wasn’t a spectacularly attractive woman, but there was something about her that was just beautiful and that made her different from the rest.

“Oh I didn’t know anyone else was here.” She said timidly, toying with the neck frill of her white blouse.   
“Do you work here too?” John asked, feeling curious.

“Huh? No! Well, technically if I’m here It’s because of something… although I don’t really work here … this is temporary … I work in … ugh, sorry I’m rambling.” She said releasing an awkward laugh.

John could not help but chuckle, he liked this woman. She was like the only source of light in the dark mansion, if you didn't count the rambling housekeeper.

“May I know your name?” He asked.

“She is Miss Molly Hooper. An eminence in the field of pathology, although it is a shame that the only one who knows that is the chief of police Lestrade. The generally sexist view of this time is something that probably won’t do any good to society. And please refrain yourself from courting her, Dr. Watson. You are, after all, a married man.”

John gasped when a man of elegant bearing and arrogant attitude came out of the shadows. Molly _, Miss Hooper,_ he reminded himself, also looked surprised and maybe a little insecure. The Earl of Warwick, Mycroft Holmes, gave a half smirk at her discomfort.

“I suppose both of you are wondering about why you are here. You know, for years the laws of nature have laughed at science’s futile tries to prove that anyone can be that ‘God’ that those faithful fools adore so much.” He spat the word 'God’ as if it was poison and continued. “What I propose is to alter some natural laws and restore life to a dead body.”

They both looked at him weird. Earl or not, what he had said was crazy. There was literally no way that someone would be able to do that. God or not, once you died you remained dead. Galvani had proposed something similar several years ago, causing great controversy. John couldn't say he defended his theories, but he certainly found them fascinating, though very disturbing, and judging by Molly's face, she shared his opinions.  
“What … what you’re proposing us is that we resurrect a dead man?” John asked approaching Molly in case they had to run to make a quick escape.

“Well, I wouldn’t indicate that in such a vulgar way, but yeah, right. That’s what I want you to do.”   
“But …” Molly began.

“Please Miss Hooper, do not interrupt me. I guess you know that 10 years ago there was a major confrontation between France and England, a rather tragic event I must say. My little brother, Sherlock, whom you see in that portrait, fought and died when he was betrayed by one of his fellow 'brothers-in-arms', the better known as the 'war hero’ Professor James Moriarty. ”

John could not help but shudder at the memoryies of the battlefield. Always alert, always violence, always pain. God knows he wouldn’t have lasted more than six months if he had not been sent home for the shoulder injury from a shot wound two months after the war began.

“Is it your brother who you want us to revive?” Molly asked, hesitating.   
“Very sharp, Miss Hooper, that’s why I brought you here. Did you believe that I didn’t know about your fascination with the theories of the use of direct-current electricity to stimulate nerves and muscles of the dead?” Molly swallowed and blushed.

“And why am I here?” John asked clearly agitated with the subject. 

“Isn’t t it obvious? Someone has to sew the body and provide the necessary organs. And because Miss Hooper is not considered part of the scientific comunity and the society in general, she can’t provide for us. Fortunately the truly important organs are safely kept, we only need a stomach, a liver, a pancreas, an intestine, two kidneys and two lungs. ”

Molly and John looked at each other, perplexed, not knowing what to say. 

“What do you say? Do you accept the challenge?" 

The three knew what their answer was. And the consequences of their refusal.

* * *

 

_Three months later…_

They had managed to get comfortable in the huge laboratory that the mansion had. To perform this task, both had to to move into the house. John was left with no choice but to send letters to his beloved Mary every week, the Earl did not want anyone from the outside world knowing about this 'small’ science project.

Molly had made many advances and studied several theories that went deeper into Luigi Galvani's research, to revive dead flesh. She studied the different degrees of putrefaction and the conditions of such putefraction, then developed calculations that indicated the amount of electric charge required and the duration of the discharge.

Getting the organs was not as complicated as it seemed, a couple of visits to several hospitals posing as an interim, were more than enough for John to steal them. He really hoped he hadn't given himself away, he was no master of disguise, but he thought he had managed to play his parts very decently.

The real hard work was to rebuild the body that they were supposed to revive, for nearly two months John worked 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Molly sometimes came by to help or to talk about the various options of resurrection, they had a mute accord of not talking about their personal lives. Getting personal would mean getting close, and after all this job was finished they would surely part ways and probably would not want to be related in any way to anything that had anything to do in one way or another with this mad task. The housekeeper, named Mrs. Hudson, also passed by the laboratory to offer food, tea, or simply to give them encouragement, which was greatly appreaciated since it reminded them that not everything was dark and grim. During those three months, Molly and Mrs. Hudson became the only human contact (excluding the letters from Mary) and, in a certain way, his only allies. Mycroft, didn’t appear, not even to check their progress, either because he was too busy with his social life or because he hated the sight of the semi descomposed body, even if it was his brother’s.

The corpse, Sherlock, wasn’t so bad for a man who died 10 years ago. He was fairly well preserved, he wasn’t entirely rotten and he had less open wounds than he expected, only a few in the torso and a couple on the face and skull. Thankfully most of his hair had fallen, so the seam of these wounds wasn’t a major problem.

The final result wasn’t so bad, considering the little time and materials they had. His appearence still resembled the one of a human, except for the ugly scars that plied the head and torso. John also checked, and to be honest he did it with a small feeling of envy, that his reproductive organs were in good condition and spotless, as if nothing had happened.

After several weeks of hard work, the corpse was finally ready. Taking advantage of London’s stormy weather, it wasn’t difficult to find a day when a strong storm untied. Between John and Molly (Mycroft refused to touch the body) and with some help from Mrs. Hudson, who was surprisingly strong for her age, they managed to transport the corpse’s heavy body from the laboratory on the second floor to the attic.

They laid Sherlock on the metallic gurney and they connected the cables on his body, as Molly indicated, then covered it with a blanket and backed away as possible to avoid being struck by the lightning.

John was the only one in the goup with enough physical strength to pull the pulley and put the gurney with the body at a reasonable enough distance to be hit by lightning.

The cold coming through the roof hatch was abysmal, despite the thick green jacket Molly wore that wasn’t enough to warm and protect her from the strongest storm in the history of London.

A huge lightning stroke near the bed but did not touch it, _If this one has fallen so close to him the next one will hit the target for sure_ John thought. And he was right, the next lighting hit the metal bed so hard that for a second they got the feeling it was going to tip over. The stretcher and the chains that held it gleamed with electricity and the pulley threatened to break because of the impact force. John was forced to take desperate measures, he put his gloves on and hurried to pull down the bed before it fell.

For a moment, the four were silent, expecting. They waited for several minutes for the electric charge of the metal to disappear, but even then nothing happened. John, Molly and Mrs. Hudson shoulders slumped in despair, the project they had put so much effort and time had failed miserably. Mycroft kept a cold killer look on both of them, silently blaming their incompetence of the resounding failure. Molly slowly approached the body covered with the sheet and stroked it with the tips of her fingers.

"I don’t understand.” She said softly. “The calculations were corre-”

A hand came out from under the sheet and grabbed her wrist in a vice grip. Molly cried, in a fit of panic and Mrs. Hudson fainted. John remained frozen in terror and Mycroft was as imperturbable as aways, but in his eyes there was something different, a spark of fear and doubt had arisen in his eyes. Mycroft Holmes had played God and now he was going to pay dearly, getting his hands dirty with the blood of an innocent woman.

The hand holding Molly pulled her to the bed so hard that he stumbled and ended up lying on the monster’s chest. In her attempt to sit down and find a way to escape his grip she ended uncovering the sheet revealing the creature and his angry face to the presents.

The monster, when his view changed roared in rage and his other hand grabbed Molly’s waist, pushing her down and crushing her against his muscled chest. She struggled again against his grip, but only managed to get him to tighten his grip on her possessively.

John tried to approach them, but all he received was a loud warning growl. Desperate he turned towards Mycroft who watched the scene with great interest.

“Mr. Holmes, do something! He’s going to hurt her if he doesn’t let her go!”   
Mycroft left his state of fascination and approached the couple.

“I fear that my brother has found a new obsession with Miss Hooper, being the first thing he saw upon his revival. But I think I can find a way to distract him…”   
“Do it! Please!” John pleaded.

Mycroft moved closer to Molly and Sherlock. The latter looked very entertained toying with one of Molly’s hair strands while he kept a firm grip on her waist.

“Sherlock …” Sherlock’s head moved slightly in the direction of the sound, but preferred to continue stroking Miss Hooper’s hair. Mycroft continued. “Sherlock, brother, look at me. I’m here.” Though Mycroft’s words were firm in his voice was a slight tremor that gave away his fear.

This time Sherlock’s head turned to face his brother. His eyes, which at that moment were a tone of aquamarine, narrowed and his grip on Molly increased painfully, making her gasp in pain.

“Sherlock, little brother. Don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Mycroft.”

Sherlock seemed distrustful of his brother, but soon his eyes flashed in recognition. John took the opportunity to inject him with a sedative powerful enough to knock out an elephant. Sherlock roared in pain, but soon his eyes rolled to the back of his head and let sleep take place.

“My … croft …” Were his last words.

They waited a few seconds to catch their breath. When they made sure that Sherlock was sleeping peacefully, they released a sigh of relief.

“What are we going to do with him?"John asked.   
"Tie him, obviously. We can’t afford another slip like this. When he wakes up we’ll try to reason with him.”

Molly was the only one who remained silent while watching the serene and relaxed face of the young Holmes. She could not help but feel guilty for her actions. What if he didn’t want to be revived? What if something went wrong? Sherlock stirred on his slumber and the hand that was clutching her waist gently stroked her hip as a small smile of happiness surged on his face. He seemed so gentle and quiet that she hadn’t any doubt in that instant that what had happened earlier was probably due to the shock of being brought back to life.

The only thing that worried her now was the reason for his resurrection. Mycroft Holmes did nothing without a purpose, everything was always calculated. And she doubted that brotherly love was the sole reason for his tampering with the death. But anyway, they had all the time in the world to find out, right?


	27. You seem sad so I'll give you my scarf (Kid!lock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was some kid!lock I wrote loong ago. It's more or less an AU because I decided that Sherlock during part of his childhood lived in America (In Oklahoma for whatever reason). I can't remember if some of that was mentioned in canon or what, I think I made that up myself.

A six year-old Molly Hooper was enjoying her vacation on Oklahoma with her parents. They had been in a lot of places since they came here, but she hadn’t had any time to make new friends, nor did she care. Everyone in her town thought she was weird so, why bother? Books were better than people, they didn’t make fun of you and they didn’t move to a bigger city, leaving you all alone and friendless. Books always had greater adventures and romances than friends.

A sob was heard from behind the bushes. Molly, curious as she was, went to investigate the source of the cries.

A child, with curly brown hair who was about a year or two older than her and much taller than she was, was crouching and whimpering, hugging a auburn coloured dog.

“Why are you crying?” She asked kneeling in front of him.

“Go away! It’s none of your business!”

“But you are crying.” She said, cocking her head to the side.

“And you are a silly girl! go away!” He said stubbornly forcibly wiping his tears with the sleeves of his jumper.

She looked at the dog, who was panting and wagging his tail happily.

“You have a very beautiful dog, what’s his name?”

The boy didn’t answer and buried his face in the animal’s fur instead. The dog whimpered a little and then continued happily enjoying life. Seconds passed, but for Molly they felt like hours.

“His name is RedBeard.” He spoke. His voice was muffled and tingled with sadness.

“And why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad, stupid girl.”

Molly clenched her small fists and stomped her foot down.

“Why do you say such horrible things? You are mean and I’m only trying to be nice to you!”

The boy blinked astonished. That was the first time a girl, a pretty girl, was trying to be nice to him, without calling him a ‘freak’ or laughing at him.

“And what’s your name?” He asked, feeling a bit shy at being called out.

“It’s Molly. And yours?”

“I’m William.”

She smiled at him.

“And why are you so sad William?”

William looked sadly at the dog and tightened his embrace.

“They are going to kill my dog.”

Molly gasped in surprise.

“They? Who are they?”

William grunted, and the dog started growling.

“Bad people who only want to do bad things. They want to kill him because he’s different, just like me.”

Molly’s interest was picked at this.

“And why are you different? You seem pretty normal to me.”

William, huffed in annoyance.

“Because I know things other people don’t and I notice things people don’t notice.”

“That doesn’t make you different, William. It makes you special, you are not a freak.” She said sweetly.

William’s head snapped up and blushed, he liked Molly, she was good with him and she didn’t mind his ‘skills’. She was different, but in a good meaning of the word.

Molly could heard her parents calling for her, that only meant that her time there was almost over, they would soon 'hit the road' to do some more tourism. She couldn’t help but feel sad, she had just met William and he clearly needed someone by his side, a good friend. She didn’t want him to leave him alone. 

“William, I have to go…” William’s eyes saddened, obviously he didn’t count the possibility of her leaving so soon. She didn’t want to leave either, but her family only had two more days of holidays before returning to work. She had an idea. At least if she couldn't be there for him, she could still offer some support.

“It’s cold here, you will get ill. And you seem sad, so I’ll give you my scarf so you can remember we're friends." 

She removed her blue scarf from her neck and put it on his neck delicately.

"Bye, William. I’ll hope we meet again in the future.” She said kissing him on the cheek.

The tips of William’s ears reddened, he really liked Molly.

* * *

 

Molly looked down at the tea mug on her hands. It had gone cold thirty minutes ago. But she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was the image that keep repeating on every television of London.

_Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?_

_Of course I didn’t miss you, you psychotic bastard._  She thought bitterly.

The worst of all was that Sherlock was nowhere to be found, he had left her a message but it didn’t explain anything.

 _Goodbye._ That was the only thing written on it, nothing more. She couldn’t help but feel frustrated and scared at the same time. Bloody Holmes, for turning her into a cowardly mouse. Where was he when she needed him the most?

The window of her living room was opened and she screamed in fright, fearing it was Moriarty. Instead, Sherlock entered through the window and fixed her with an annoyed glare.

“Molly please, do shut up. The last thing we need is Moriarty knowing I’m here.”

Molly clenched her jaw and raised her hand to slap him again for worrying her. But he was faster and grabbed her wrist before he could hit him and yanked her towards him, making their chests to crush into each other.

Molly looked at him breathing heavily.

“Not this time, Dr. Hooper.” He said breathlessly. He could feel her eyes prickling with sadness and fear.

“Where were you?” She asked.

“I was about to go on a suicidal mission for killing Magnussen, but England needed me back.” He simply said.

Molly’s eyes widened with surprise.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” She said, now feeling tears prickling atthe corner of her eyes.

Her eyes were sad, why didn’t he tell her? Didn’t he trust her with his life? she was starting to doubt of her importance to him again and he couldn’t have that. She was far too precious for him. So, how  could he demostrate her how much he valued her?

He sighed and removed his scarf and put it around her neck.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“You seem sad, so I’ll give you my scarf.” He tenderly caressed her cheekbone with his tumb.

Molly gasped and tears fell down her cheeks. Only one person could know the intimacy of that gesture.

 _It has always been him…_  She remembered those words, she said them to William aka Sherlock those years ago. She should have recognized him sooner.

She was about to kiss his cheek when she was stopped by him.

“Not this time, Molly.” And he placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

They stood there, embracing, during minutes. Those would be the only minutes of peace they would have before the game started again. But when they were together, they felt like they were unstoppable.


	28. Hen night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow this was written so long ago I almost forgot about it. haha.

Molly Hooper pushed Sherlock off her angrily and with her hands on her hips glared up at him .

“What. The Hell. Are you. Doing here?”

* * *

 

_Earlier, that day._

“Molly!” The happy voice of Mary Morstan exclaimed through the phone. “Do you know what’s happening tonight?”

Molly smirked knowingly and decided to tease her a bit.

“No, Mary I’m afraid I can’t remember.” She said innocently.

“Well, let’s just say that tomorrow, one of my best friends is going to get married to London’s biggest idiot so we were planning to go with a few common friends to a strip club to give her the best hen night on history!!.” Mary answered returning the teasing. “Do you remember now?”

Molly laughed, since the second incident with Moriarty, Sherlock had finally pulled his head out of his ass and admitted his feelings for her. They hadn’t even been dating seven months before he dropped to his knees and asked her hand in marriage. She had joked a bit, saying that why he would want to marry only her hand instead all of her, but the expression on his face, told her that he was deadly serious and wanted her to be his wife. She had accepted without thinking it twice.

“Yes, I think so, Mary. So… where are we going?”

“To the most expensive, modern, with the hottest guys, and exclusive club of London, The Dark Raven!!”

Molly couldn’t help but gasp, only girls from upper class were allowed to go into that kind of clubs, well given that she was going to be the sister in law of Mycroft Holmes, that was logical.

“And what are you going to do with Charlotte?”

“She stays with her father and uncles, because Mrs. Hudson is coming with us!”

“Oh… well, it’s… it’s great. Are you sure John won’t mind?”

“Not even a little, his own stag night was ‘a complete and utter disaster’ as Sherlock likes to call it. They don’t want to repeat it again, much to Greg and Mike’s dismay.”

“Sooo… we are child free?” Molly asked bitting back a smile.

“Yes, we are!”

* * *

 

Molly was going to be late to her own hen night, but it wasn’t her fault. Instead of dressing, she had spent the afternoon scolding at her bloody fiance because the smug bastard had experimented with jelly, (again) and had left the kitchen in a state of mess.

She had to dress up and make up in less than thirty minutes, so she barely noticed Sherlock smirking behind the paper, she also barely noticed the slap he gave her ass when she leaned to get her bag and she barely noticed that he was wearing his signature belstaff and scarf, as if he was also going out.

She didn’t noticed, because that night was going to have fun. And her future husband wasn't going to spoil it.

She met Mary, Mrs. Hudson, Anthea and Sally at the entrance of the club.

“It was about bloody time! What where you doing?” Mary asked.

“Sorry girls, but Sherlock was experimenting again, soo… well I think you guess what happened.”

“You shouldn’t let the fre-, Sherlock take so many liberties, he should learn to be more careful.” Sally reprimanded her.

“Girls, it’s Sherlock! We wouldn’t want him otherwise.” Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully.

“Guess, you’re right.” Molly sighed.

“Ladies, let’s get in there’s a lot of men inside there waiting for us!” Mary exclaimed.

“Well, technically they aren’t waiting for us especifically…” Anthea corrected her.

Mary ignored her and marched towards the club, with the rest following her hesitantly. Inside, the club was amazing, it mixed the white of the walls with the black of the furniture perfectly, several women were shouting and throwing bills at a man dressed as a firefighter, while others were on the dance floor and other group were getting drunk on the bar.

“Look how many hot guys are here! I don’t know where to start!”

Everyone looked in surprise at Mrs. Hudson, who only shrugged.

“No need to be so prude, dears. I’m also a woman.”

“Girls! let’s search for the hottest guy in here so he can do a priate dance for Molly!” Shouted Mary.

“What?” Molly asked dumbfounded.

They found the manager of the club, a fat and ugly man on his forties who was looking at some messages on his expensive looking phone.

“Excuse me? who is the best dancer in this club? We would like him to have a private dance with her.” Mary asked.

The man looked at them with disdain.

“Have you brought money?” He growled.

Mary huffed and  pulled out a big bundle of money from her bag.

“Here it is, can you give us the guy now please?” She asked again with venom on her voice. The man was distracted from his phone and rudely counted the money in front of them to ensure it was the appropiate amount. When he finished, he threw them a digusting smile.

“Alright, ladies, it’s all in order. We have a new guy, I think name is Julian, he has been less than a week in here but he has managed to gain a foothold in the business quite nicely. I’ll call him now.”

The man went again to his phone and started typing. In less than five minutes a tall guy with blonde, almost white hair, brown eyes, dressed in a black leather vest, black leather pants and black boots. Was taking Molly’s hand and giding her towards a room.

She was too distracted admiring the man’s arm muscles to notice the encouraging shouts and laughs that her friends where sending towards them.

Once in the room she was sat on a chair, with the stranger leaning over her. They were so close that she almost could touch his chest with her nose.

“Enjoy the dance, precious.” Julian said with a heavy russian accent.

Soft jazz music began to fill the room and the man started his sensual dance. Soon, his vest fell off to the ground and she could admire lustfully how well built the stripper was, it was a shame she was too shy to touch his well defined abs and pecs.

Julian smirked knowingly and while he danced, he grabbed her small hand in his bigger one and guided it towards his torso, massaging it tenderly.

With her face flushed like a tomato she dared to look at the stranger’s eyes, and then froze.

_No… He wouldn’t dare, would he?_

But yes, there he was, he had dyed his hair (she never knew how the fuck did he managed to do it so quickly) and put contact lenses, but the rest was the same, the same high cheekbones, the same cupid’s bow lips and the same arrogant smirk on his face.

 _Fucking asshole…_  She thought.

Her hot stripper was Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

 

_Now…_

Molly Hooper pushed Sherlock off of her angrily and with her hands on her hips glared up at him .

“What. The Hell. Are you. Doing here?”

Sherlock had the nerve to look confused and cocked his head to the side.

“Excuse me miss?” He said. She arched an eyebrow.

“Sherlock, I know it’s you.”

Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms petulantly.

“How did yo know it was me?”

She rolled her eyes in frustration.

“I’ll be damned if I couldn’t recognise my future husband when I have him in front of me.”

“You didn’t seem to recognise me before.”

Molly’s eyes grew wide and flushed.

“Yes, but that was because… because…”

Sherlock smirked wickedly.

“Because you were too distracted admiring 'Julian’, am I right? hmmm…. should I be jealous? That wasn’t my purpose at all.”

“And what was your purpose, Mr. Holmes?” She smirked teasingly.

“To make sure you didn’t get smitten with some boy that is working here to pay his studies. There’s only one man whom you should see undress himself and that’s me.” He answered sulking.

“So you were jealous?” She asked tentatively. Sherlock pouted and looked at the other side.

“No, I wasn’t. And since you have discovered me I suppose I should leave and let you have your hen night.”

He moved to leave the room, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He looked at Molly hopefully.  
“Well…” She started speaking “ Since you are here, I suppose you should finish what you have started…” She finished devilishly.


End file.
